Just A Child
by Randomcat100
Summary: When Valjean comes for Cosette, he finds himself caring for Eponine and Azelma too. The foursome goes off to live in hiding from Javert at the convent, but they needn't be hiding. Javert already knows where they are. Because Azelma has turned Valjean in.
1. Chapter 1: Living In Different Worlds

**JUST A CHILD: A ****_LES MISÉRABLES_**** STORY **

**By Randomcat100**

* * *

**Brief author's note: Welcome to the adventure that I hope will be Just A Child. Just to explain: all quotes at beginnings of chapters will come from the Les Miserables musical, so I don't see it necessary to cite each time it comes from Les Miserables. I will only cite the song and character. There is also a glossary of used French words at the bottom of the chapter. **

* * *

Chapter 01…Living in Different Worlds

_Please do not send me out alone_

_Not in the darkness on my own._

~from _Water From The Well_, young Cosette

* * *

**December 1823**

**Monterfermeil**

* * *

**Cosette**

**IT WAS SUPPOSED** to be Cosette's song, and it was. But, in a way, it was also Éponine's song. While it was Cosette's dream, one of castles on clouds, Éponine had been the one to suggest there be a song in the first place. And she'd come up the entire third verse.

Cosette sang her song now, standing in the doorway of the inn, staring out at Éponine and Azelma, who were admiring the dolls in the window of the _magasin des jouets_. Éponine and Azelma. Her only friend in this world and her enemy.

Suitably, Cosette did not sweep as she sang, but rather, held onto her broom, one that was taller than she was.

"_There is a castle on a cloud_

_I like to go there in my sleep_

_Aren't any floors for me to sweep_

_Not in my castle on a cloud._"

Outside, Éponine looked up and caught Cosette's eye. At this, Cosette allowed herself a small smile as she skipped the second verse entirely, and went on the third verse, Éponine's verse, all about a loving mother she couldn't even remember.

Cosette only remembered two things about her mother. The first was her name: Fantine.

She set her broom down and picked up a string of knotted rags that served as her doll. She rocked the "doll" in her arms as she sang:

"_There is a lady all in white_

_Holds me and sings a lullaby_

_She's nice to see and she's soft to touch_

_She says…_" Cosette paused, brought her doll to her ear, whispered: " '_Cosette, I love you very much._' "

Cosette relished this moment for a while, this moment in her mind, before finishing.

"_I know a place where no one's lost_

_I know a place where no one cries_

_Crying at all is not allowed_

_Not in my castle on a cloud_."

A sudden sound from above startled the pitiful eight – year – old as Madame Thenardier appeared at the top of the stairs, all two hundred pounds of her. Without hesitation, Cosette found herself tossing her rag of a doll aside, grabbing the broom, struggling to sweep. But her mistress was already upon her, more than ready to attack.

"Now look who's here," she taunted as she took the steps one at a time towards Cosette. Slowly, slowly. "The little madam herself! Pretending once again she's been so…awfully good!"

Cosette lowered her gaze as Madame reached the landing and made her way towards the cupboard.

_Dear God, please do not let her be fetching the strap now! Why, I've been up since five in the morning, working, and now it's already dusk. And I've had nothing to eat all day besides…_

But her executioner wasn't sharpening her axe just yet. Instead, she was at the ready with the large bucket. Worse.

"Now fetch that pail, my little _mademoiselle_," Madame Thenardier's voice was all high-pitched mocking. "And go and draw some water from the well!" With a _clunk_, the Madame dropped the bucket at Cosette's feet.

And although fear gripped at the small girl's heart, she took the tall broom in one hand and the heavy bucket in the other – it must have weighed as much as she did – and she marched out the door, leaning the broom against the frame on her way.

The leather handle of the bucket bit into Cosette's small hands as she lugged it along. It dragged in the snow. Leaving a long trail in its wake.

Back at the inn, the Madame clapped her hands and called to her daughters: "Éponine, Azelma, come my dears. You'll catch your deaths in this frigid weather!"

Both girls raised their heads to spot Cosette. Those matching dark eyes wore different expressions: Éponine's pity, Azelma's contempt.

Cosette gave Éponine a small, tremulous smile. But her friend didn't dare to return it. If her parents, the Thenardiers, knew of their bond, it would result in a beating for the both of them. And so their friendship remained a secret, Azelma being the only other person in the world who knew. Loyalty to her sister kept her quiet, both this could change.

So Éponine and Azelma raised the noses, lifted their skirts, and ran into the warmth of the inn like little, lovely ladies. Into their mother's warm embrace and kisses.

_Maman_…Cosette thought. _You promised you would come for me. Where are you? Maman, where have you gone?_

It was then she noticed the doll.

Sitting in her own window, she was the loveliest doll Cosette had ever seen. Her dress was a gentle pink, and made of real silk too. She wasn't one of the little cloth dolls either, but of porcelain. Her eyes were a brilliant blue, and her lips, unlike the straight lines of so many other dolls, seemed to smile slightly. But perhaps the most appealing part of the doll was her hair: blond curls, wild and untamed, spilling over slender shoulders.

Cosette stood there, drawn in by the magic that was this toy, taking her breath away –

"Still there, Cosette?" the Madame's snarl came from across the road.

Cosette's eyes stretched huge, too frightened blue orbs. Without another word, she turned and made her way into the dark woods that frightened her, woods of shadows and ghosts.

_Maman, Maman, why haven't you come for me? Why haven't you come to fetch me? Have you forgotten me?_

* * *

**Éponine**

Éponine sat at the table, watching Azelma play a game with the wooden spoons. Her sister sang a bit of old tune, an old French folk song, as she played.

And Éponine waited.

Waited for Cosette to come so they could flee upstairs to play. For Maman to come with her hot meal, one Cosette could never have. For the rowdy drunkards that were Papa's customers to come, waited for a future she did not know. She was happy, she supposed.

But Cosette was not happy. And Éponine sought a better future than inheriting her parent's inn. She wanted a life of adventure. Of love, when she was a little bit older.

She waited for Cosette's mother, Fantine, or, "the lady all in white", to come and take her friend away.

"Oh, 'Ponine!" Azelma sighed suddenly. "I should like to go see those dolls for a little while longer. Did you see the lovely one with the white dress?"

Éponine shook her head. "No."

Azelma dropped her spoons. "Merciful heavens! Didn't you? Oh, she _was_ lovely. She wore a long, white satin dress, and she had pale green eyes. She wore, too, a white hat with roses on it, and had russet curls very much like mine."

Éponine smiled. Save for when she was taunting Cosette, Azelma really proved to be a sweet child.

"Let's then, my sister," Éponine decided. "We'll slip outside when Maman isn't looking, and you shall show me your doll. Perhaps then we could have a tea party with _Minou_."

Azelma nodded vigorously. "Oh, yes!" The sisters stood and, hand in hand, slipped off outside before Maman could catch them.

"Do you see her?" Azelma asked softly, peering out from behind her sister. "She is just – oh!"

A carriage, pulled by a speckled gray horse, came by. Azelma watched, entranced. She'd always taken fancy to horses, and was always delighted when she saw one. But after a moment, the carriage was gone, and Maman was there, fussing, ushering them inside.

"Hadn't I come to fetch you beforehand? Must I always follow you here and there, telling you when to tie your nice furs tighter?"

"No, Maman," Éponine said. "I am sorry."

"I know, my dears. You are good girls. Come inside, now."

Éponine smiled and took her mother's hand. "_Oui, Maman_,"

"Oh - " Maman paused " – my dear Éponine. Your nice blue bonnet is crooked. Here, let me fix it for you."

Éponine stood still as her mother straightened her bonnet. Azelma went in search of Minou, the kitten, whose name was, literally, "Kitty."

"There, my love." Maman let Éponine go with a kiss. Azelma had found Minou and had tied her white bonnet round the kitten's head.

_Oh, she looks so darling!_ Éponine thought to herself. She took the kitten from Azelma's arms. "Oh, 'Zelma. Here. Let's pretend that Minou is my daughter and that we are both Princesses of different kingdoms who've come together to meet for tea." Her mind spun as she lost herself in a game now, Cosette forgotten. "I am the Princess of Waterloo, and you?"

"Of Paris," Azelma said eagerly.

"Yes. So you and I shall meet for tea, and I'll say to you, 'Do you see here? This is my daughter, Lady Minou.' And you'll say, 'Merciful heavens! Is she ill? There is fur covering her entire body!' And I'll reply, 'Oh, she has fur, but she isn't ill at all. She was born this way, and with these ears and a tail too!'"

Azelma nodded, and Éponine nodded herself. And they began to play their game by the fire's warmth.

* * *

**Glossary of Used French Words**

_magasin des jouets…_toy shop

_Minou_…Kitty

_Oui, Maman_…Yes, Mother


	2. Chapter 2: Rescued Childhood

Chapter 02…A Rescued Childhood

* * *

_Will you be like a Papa to me?_

~ from _Bargain_ / _The Cruel Waltz of the Thenardiers_, young Cosette

* * *

**December 1823**

**Montfermeil**

* * *

**Cosette**

**THE WIND WHIPPED **her long blond hair in her eyes, the ragged fabric of her dark green dress rubbed against a still – painful welt, the bucket was nearly impossible to lug. The snow stung at her bare feet. The shadows sent her squealing in fear of ghosts.

But Cosette still dragged the heavy bucket along.

_I'm nearly at the well now. I shall be fine._

Cosette hummed her castle song to herself to distract herself from the choking fear that filled her to the brim.

_Maman. Come for me. Please._

It was then she saw the well, just beyond a massive oak. Cosette found herself moving with renewed vigor. Her horrible venture was nearly halfway over. Perhaps when she returned, the Madame would allow her to have some bread, or even a hot meal.

She tried not to think of the fact that, once filled with water, the bucket would be unfathomably heavier. She lowered the bucket into the well, still humming, casting away all the shadows and ghosts that must lurk in these woods.

When the bucket came back up, tears sprang at her eyes as she nearly dropped it on her bare, numb toes.

The _crunch_ of boots on snow made her head snap up as she caught side of a shadowy, tall figure making its way towards her. The sight of this…well, whatever it was, sent her running, hiding behind a tree.

_Who might it be? A ghost? Or…_Cosette shuddered at just the thought…_a highway man, come to slit my throat when I tell him I haven't a Franc to give him?_ A whimper escaped her.

"Hush now. You needn't be afraid of me."

A man's voice, kind and gentle. Cosette peered out from her hiding place to see a middle – aged gentleman standing near her abandoned pail. He was smiling genuinely, and he wore a warm leather jacket and hat.

"Don't hide," he continued gently, "show me where you live."

Cosette took a few small, careful steps out from behind her tree.

"Tell me, my child, what is your name?"

Cosette wrapped her thin arms around herself and said, after a pause, "I'm called Cosette."

That gentle smile became a radiant one. "Cosette," he said. The _monsieur_ bowed slightly and removed his hat politely. Cosette smiled. "_Mademoiselle_. Can I help you with your bucket?"

* * *

**Valjean**

_How shall I tell her?_ Valjean mused as he carried Cosette's bucket, the child's small, grimy hand in his other. _How shall I tell her that her mother is dead, and that she asked of me to care for her?_

It was clear the money Fantine had sent for her daughter hadn't been put to her well – being as expected.

To begin with, Cosette had been sent out into the woods at night in the bitter weather without a coat, shawl, or even shoes in the snow. Dirt and soot streaked her small face and arms. She was going about in nothing but rags, and her pail was too heavy for her; it was a wonder she'd managed to get it to the woods at all, and that was when it was empty. The little girl was scrawny and underfed, her bones sticking out.

She'd be pretty with a bit of cleaning and feeding. Dark blond hair hung about her bony shoulders, and her eyes were a brilliant icy blue. But those eyes were, in no way, cold.

_How shall I tell this poor soul, this miserable child, her mother died for her and found peace in doing so?_

"Good _monsieur_, you come from God in heaven. Tell Cosette I love her and I'll see her when I wake." Those had been this little girl's mother's last words. Valjean could never forget that night, when she'd died in his arms, having been reduced to prostitution, those beautiful dark locks of hers shorn off.

Now, Cosette was still holding Valjean's hand, volacing a bit of tune the man didn't recognize. The song poured from the girl's mouth in a sweet, clear, young voice:

"La la la la la, la, la, la…"

They were in town now. Christmas livened the streets of this little town, a bit, despite the late hour.

"_M'sieur!_"

Valjean turned to see a street vendor addressing him. "Yes?"

"Beg your pardon, _m'sieur_, but your child must be frightfully cold." The vendor offered a small, green plaid shawl. "She'll catch her death, going 'bout like that! This'll be four _sous_, no more, and your daughter will be warm. Do consider – for your child's health, four _sous_ surely wouldn't come amiss."

Valjean set down the bucket and bent so that he was at eye level with Cosette. "Cosette," he said, "this _monsieur_ is right. Aren't you cold?"

Her head shook from right to left, but Valjean could see the way she saw shivering, and the goosebumps that rose of her skinny arms.

"I accept," Valjean nodded to the vendor, who tied the shawl round Cosette's shoulders while he paid the four _sous_ in question.

When they began to walk away, Cosette raised her head to look at him. "Thank you."

Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

Valjean only smiled. "It was nothing, _petite_."

Suddenly, Cosette pointed. "That's where I live." An inn was just across the road. As they began to walk there, he noticed the way she turned to stare at a doll in a window in a toy shop. He smiled and turned away, but she didn't stop staring until they were just in front of the inn.

At the door, the innkeepers met him, dressed in clothes that were cheap but frivolous. They eyed Valjean cautiously, unsure what to do, what to say, to this old man come with their water girl.

"I found her wandering in the woods," Valjean began by way of explanation. "This little child, I found her trembling in the shadows."

He watched as Cosette slipped her hand from his and stepped to hide behind him.

"And I am here to help Cosette, I shall settle any debt you may think proper."

Alarm flashed in Thenardier's eyes. The innkeeper sensed a threat. Eyeing the couple warily, he went on. "I will pay what I must pay to take Cosette away."

The child raised her head to look at Valjean in surprise. Valjean smiled and nodded. A look of wonder passed through the child's eyes, delighted wonder.

Meanwhile, Thenardier had bent down to his knees, opened his arms wide waiting for a hug. _I love you_, he mouthed to Cosette. This bit of acting was so clearly fake it was laughable. But Valjean was not going to laugh. He had very important matters to attend to.

"This is a duty I must heed," he explained. "There is a promise I have made."

Thenardier beckoned to Cosette, his wife looked at Valjean as if this was all a misunderstanding. Thenardier beckoned a second time, and Cosette's jaw set. She stubbornly shook her head.

Valjean coughed meaningfully. _Now it is time. You know it is. You must tell her. _

A deep breath. Breath in, breath out. Breath in, breath out. _Come, Valjean. Now is the time!_

"And her mother is with God…"

A stunned blanket of silence fell between them. After a moment, Madame Thenardier seemed to realize she should seem shocked and upset, saddened. She let out a fake little gasp. A hand that bore many expensive rings, not matching her _in_expensive attire, flew to her mouth.

Cosette only stared at her feet. That look of wonder was gone, replaced by confused grief. Valjean took her chin and raised it gently. "Her suffering is over," he said, but it wasn't Cosette he was consoling.

"And I speak here with her voice, and I stand here in her place."

From there, he was invited in, and the Thenardiers began their act. They swept Cosette up, pecking her with kisses, pretending that they loved her, that they treated her like she was one of their own, as Thenardier put it.

Valjean sincerely hoped this was not the case.

And thus began their argument, the innkeepers just about waltzing their way through the bargain as they did through life. The price rose and rose until, finally, one was settled on.

Fifteen hundred Francs, a ridiculous price but a necessary one.

"Come, Cosette. Say goodbye," Valjean coaxed the little girl. "Fetch your things."

The child rose and walked over to the hearth. She took a few knotted rags and held them close.

"Is that all?" Valjean asked in surprise.

"Yes, _monsieur_, it is." Cosette paused. "…Papa."

She allowed him to usher her out the door, saying nothing to her former guardians. They were about to step outside when –

"_Monsieur_?"

Valjean turned, surprised, to see two girls leaning over the banister at the top of the stairs. Presumably, the Thenardier's own children.

And, apparently, the Thenardiers had _not_ given Cosette the same treatment he did his own girls. It was evident that both children were being taken better care of than Cosette. They were healthy, clean, and well – fed.

The eldest seemed to be about Cosette's age of eight, in a long pink nightgown and long dark hair. Wide dark eyes. It was she who'd addressed Valjean.

The younger wore a similar nightdress but this one pale yellow, and russet curls. She couldn't have been more than a year or two younger than Cosette and her sister. But she shared those same large brown doe eyes with her sister.

"_Monsieur_," the older one spoke again. "Are you truly taking Cosette?"

"Yes, I am."

The older girl took another step down the stairs. "Well, _m'sieur_, if you are, then I ask of you: take Azelma and I with you!"

Valjean had no idea how to react. This little girl wanted to be taken from her parents to live with him, a stranger?

"Éponine!" demanded Thenardier. "What is this? Get to bed!"

"No, Papa!" said the girl, Éponine, stubbornly. She stomped one foot. "No, Papa! I want the _monsieur_ to take Azelma and I with him! Cosette…" her voice trailed off, but she found it again. "Cosette…is my friend!"

This seemed to be greeted with surprise, even on Cosette's part, who was looked up at the brunette with wide eyes. Her mouth dropped into a surprised "O."

Valjean found his voice. "_Petite_, is this want you want?"

"Yes, it is, _monsieur_!"

Valjean turned to the confused innkeepers. "If this is what your children desire, than I'll let it be, but you must decide."

The woman spoke first. "Éponine, my dear, this cannot be what you truly want. You won't see Maman and Papa again, and I won't be able to make those honey cakes you like so much!"

"I do not care, Maman," Éponine said defiantly. "I should like to go. And you cannot stop me! I…I'll run out in the snow without my shoes and follow them! I will be going!"

After a pause, the Madame answered. "Very well, Éponine. You may go, if it is what you'd like. But Azelma, what should you like?"

The little russet – haired girl answered, "I go where Éponine goes."

The innkeepers blinked, but nodded. "Very well, my dears. But you'll have to leave all your lovely toys and dresses here for us to sell."

Azelma looked horrified, but Éponine swatted her sister on the arm. "I understand."

Valjean, too, was shocked. In a few second's time, these people had given up their two only children. Half an hour later, a price was settled for both Éponine and Azelma, whom, he learned, were eight and seven, respectively. The Thenardier children set out in their nightdresses, though the Thenardier doted them with kisses and gave them warm fur shawls and shoes.

And the foursome was out the door.

"_Mes filles_," Valjean said. He nodded to each child. "We will be going to Paris now. But we shan't arrive in time for you to lay stocking underneath the tree for _Père Noël_ to fill. But why not head here to the toy shop to make up for this loss?"

There was much delighted bobbing of heads, and Valjean ushered his new children into the store. Azelma and Éponine raced off to choose their toys, but Cosette took Valjean's hand in hers and looked up at him. "Whatever isn't too expensive for you," she said. "…Papa."

Valjean remembered the way she'd looked at the doll in the pink dress earlier. "close your eyes," he instructed, and the little girl obediently covered her eyes. He expected her to peek out from between her fingers, but she stood, eyes covered, obediently.

Valjean reached over and took the doll from the window. He bent down in front of her. "And open."

Her hands slid away from her eyes, and her face lit up when she saw her doll.

"Do you like it?" Valjean asked as she took it in her hands. "It's for you." He paused and tucked a lock of her blond hair behind one ear. "Where I go, you will be."

Hugging her doll to her chest, she asked sweetly, "_Will_ you be like a Papa to me?"

Valjean laughed and stroked her hair. "Yes, Cosette. This is true. I will be mother and father to you. To all three of you."

As if on cue, Éponine and Azelma were by his side, rocking porcelain dolls in their arms. Valjean bought all three of the dolls, and from there, the family fetched a carriage to take them to Paris.

Cosette and Éponine both immediately took seats on either side of him, and Azelma, despite there being room for her little body, sat across from them, endorsed in her own doll.

"What shall you be calling your toys, children?" Valjean asked.

It was Éponine who spoke first, at once. "Lily."

Valjean nodded in approval, then turned to Azelma. "Her name is _Neige_." She paused, then in case there was any confusion, "for her dress."

"Very clever. And you, Cosette?"

Cosette looked up at him with wide eyes. "Fantine," she said softly. "Like Maman."

Something began to tear at Valjean's heart. "Oh?" he managed.

"Yes," Cosette explained, "before she left me, she promised me that, when she came for me, the first thing she'd do was buy me a lovely doll I liked from that toy shop."

Valjean swallowed hard, fighting against tears that prickled at his eyes. "I see."

"Does it fit her?" Cosette mumbled sleepily, lying down and resting her head against one knee. "This doesn't sound silly, does it?"

"Of course not," Valjean said. "Now, why don't you girls get some sleep? It's very late, and we will be arriving in Paris very early."

"Yes, Papa," Cosette murmured. Éponine, too, leaned her head against his shoulder. In moments, both girls were fast asleep. Only Azelma stayed awake, and wouldn't rest when Valjean asked her too.

"I am not tired," she said simply, stroking her doll's hair.

And so it was that they journeyed on through the night, leaving behind Montfermeil and its shadows.

* * *

**Glossary of Used French Words**

_Sous_…a nineteenth century French currency

_Petite_…little one (feminine)

_Mes filles_…my girls

_Père Noël_…Father Christmas

_Neige_…snow


	3. Chapter 3: Innocent Betrayal

Chapter 03…Innocent Betrayal

* * *

_Trusting me the way you do_

_I'm so afraid of failing you_

_Just a child who cannot know_

_That danger follows where I go…_

~from _Suddenly_ (written for the movie musical only), Valjean

* * *

**December 1823**

**Paris**

* * *

**Azelma**

**SHE WAS HAPPY** to have her sister, but Azelma did not want Cosette. She also wished for Maman and Papa. This older man seemed to be kind and loving, but the seven – year – old didn't quite feel ready to call him Papa just yet, at least not out loud... Although, she reminded herself, he had bought her this beautiful, expensive doll, one Maman and Papa would not have bought her.

_Perhaps I will just call him Papa in my head for the time being._

Éponine and Cosette were snuggled up close to the _monsieur_. Her new Papa. They were both asleep and hugging their dolls close. Azelma partially wished she could join them, but no, not with Cosette there.

"Azelma," her Papa whispered, "we are now entering Paris. We are at the North Gate of Paris. If you look out the window to your right, you will see it."

Azelma peered out the window in question. Indeed, she could see the gate just ahead. A long queue of carriages waited outside the Gate. Inspectors on horseback checked everyone's papers. This set her heart racing. She didn't have papers. Neither did Éponine…

What would become of them now? Would she and 'Ponine be allowed to pass through? Would they be left there, outside the gate, to find their way back to Montfermeil alone? Or would Papa take them back by carriage? And what of Cosette? Azelma didn't care about her much, but she felt a bit uncomfortable about leaving her there, alone, to die. And Éponine would be devastated over the loss of her friend.

_Let me see your papers, let me see your papers! _The words reverberated inside Azelma's skull, a constant never - ending rhythm. _LetmeseeyourpapersLetmeseeyourpapersLetmeseeyourpa persLetmeseeyourpapersLetmeseeyourpapers…_

Suddenly, the _monsieur_ tapped her on the shoulder. "Azelma. Azelma, quickly, now! We must leave this carriage at once." Then he began to shake Cosette and Éponine awake. "Cosette. Éponine. Shh…Shh…wake up. Quickly. Give me your dolls, all three of you."

Cosette and Éponine passed Lily and Fantine over, confused and bleary - eyed. They sat up, rubbing their eyes.

"Azelma. Give me your doll."

Azelma's eyes narrowed. _What trickery is this?_ "Why?" she asked warily, clutching _Neige_ to her chest tightly. She didn't want to let her beautiful doll go.

"No time for questions now, my child – quickly, now!"

Hesitantly, Azelma handed her doll over, a bit startled by the wild fear in her new Papa's eyes. Papa stuffed all three dolls down his coat, and swiftly opened the door to the carriage. "Hop out. Quickly, my children, quickly!"

Cosette hopped out first, with Éponine just about attached to her ragged skirts. Azelma got up more slowly, but she let out a yelp of alarm when her Papa pushed her out a little bit.

"Shh!" he chided her. "Cosette, Éponine, take my hand. Azelma, you may take either of your sister's hands. But be quick, and be quiet. We must run."

Azelma took her _real_ sister's hand and then Papa began to run, with the three of them struggling to keep up. Cosette, Éponine, and Azelma looked behind them to see whatever the matter might be. Azelma noticed the way one of the Inspectors turned his head slightly.

They raced through a sort of archway, and through some mazelike alleys.

"Why are we running, Papa?" Azelma whispered with wide, frightened eyes. "I'm sleepy! Why are we going into Paris this way? We _are_ going to Paris, aren't we? Have you changed your mind?"

"Hush." Papa chided. He turned a corner and they found themselves at a dead end.

"Valjean!" a voice cried. A man's voice, full of authority. Following was the sound of hooves on stone. A horse. Azelma longed to go see it, to pet its neck, perhaps even ride it, but Papa seemed very anxious, and she didn't want to worry him. But besides, her new Papa had bought three very expensive dolls; perhaps he was rich. Perhaps he would buy her a horse of her very own.

"24601!"

"Ye gods!" Papa whispered. He looked around desperately, craned his neck this way and that. Éponine tried to wiggle out of their new Papa's grip to see what all the fuss was about, but her arm was yanked sharply. "No, Éponine!"

And with that, he let go of Cosette hesitantly, as if worried she would try to run off, but the girl didn't. Papa pulled some rope out of one pocket and used it to throw at the rooftop and climb up.

"I will climb up by myself. Then, Éponine, I ask of you to tie the rope round Cosette's waist and I shall lift her up. Do the same for Azelma, then for yourself. Do you understand?"

Éponine nodded. "Yes, Papa."

Azelma waited for her new Papa to climb up. Soon, le lowered the rope down and Éponine busied herself in tying the rope around Cosette's waist.

It was then she heard the snuffing noises.

The horse!

If she was quick, perhaps she could see the horse. And perhaps she could do it before Papa caught her. She glanced at Éponine, who was still busy tying.

And she began to run. Her boots tapped a quiet rhythm against the cobblestones, and she feared Éponine heard her, but her sister didn't. And, just round the corner, there he was: the horse.

Glorious and magnificent, he had a deep black coat and a pale gray mane. He snuffed and shuffled his feet when she approached him, and she shied back a bit, but soon he bowed his head to her and she could pet him.

"Are you the child Cosette?"

Azelma gasped and turned towards the direction of the voice. She saw one of the Inspectors, crouched and hiding behind his horse. She opened her mouth to answer, but the Inspector interrupted, "Speak quietly. Do not look at me. Pretend that you are only petting my horse."

Azelma was confused, but she obeyed the Inspector. He was the law after all.

"Now, are you the child Cosette?"

"N – no," she stammered. "B – but…I am with her. When the _monsieur_ came for her, and my parents sold her, he took my sister, Éponine, and I too."

"Did he, now? And what is your name, child?"

Azelma faltered, but she answered softly without looking at the Inspector. "Azelma."

"I see. And where, pray tell, will you be living now?"

"In Paris, Inspector, _monsieur_. But I do not know where in Paris." Azelma was confused. Why was this Inspector asking her these questions?

The Inspector posed another question in his monotone. "Ah. How nice. So your new Papa, has he told you his name?"

Azelma blinked, surprised, as she realized Papa hadn't. "N – no. He hasn't."

"Or where he comes from, at all?"

"No, Inspector, _monsieur_."

"His name is Jean Valjean. He came from a town called Toulon eight years ago." The Inspector paused. "He was a convict there, because he was a thief. After nineteen years, he was freed, but he stole once again. This time, he stole a silver coin from a child. But we never found him until now."

Azelma frowned. "And this _thief_ will be my Papa?"

"If you allow him to. Thank you for your aid, my child. You will be rewarded. But, this meeting must remain a secret. When I find you and your 'Papa', I shall return you to your family in Montfermeil."

"Will you?" Azelma breathed. But before she could get her answer, the light _tappa – tappa_ of footsteps made her jump.

"Éponine!" she exclaimed in surprise.

"Azelma!" snapped Éponine. "What have you been doing? You've worried me! I turned to tie Cosette up, and you were gone!"

Azelma whispered, "I'm sorry, 'Ponine. I only wanted to pet the horse…"

"'Zelma," hissed Éponine, and it alarmed Azelma to see her sister like this. "For all you know, _that could be an Inspector's horse_! The very Inspector who is chasing us!"

"Was it an Inspector chasing us?" Azelma asked innocently.

"Oh, yes, Papa told me. Now, come, and don't run off again!" Éponine shook her head, and tugged her sister along.

It was Cosette who was peering over the rooftop when Azelma and Éponine rounded the corner. "They have returned, Papa," she said softly.

Éponine did not say anything as she tied the ropes round her sister's waist and Valjean, the thief, lifted her up.

"Azelma!" scolded Valjean. "You must never, ever, run off like that without telling me! Have you any idea how serious this is?"

"Yes. I understand." Azelma said coolly.

_Even in my head, I shall never, ever, call him Papa. _

* * *

**Valjean**

Valjean had scolded Azelma, but the seven – year – old had responded with a stiff jaw and a dull, empty stare.

He did not know how long he ran with his new children, but something had changed. Cosette and Éponine had already begun to trust him and call him "Papa", but something had changed in Azelma since her brief disappearance. She had become distant, colder.

But he could not worry about Azelma now.

He took the rooftops, and Javert seemed to have lost him. Eventually, he lowered his daughters – Cosette, Éponine, and Azelma, in that order – down with the rope into the gardens of a convent.

He could carry Cosette and Azelma, who were the lightest, but while Éponine wouldn't have been much of a load either, he couldn't carry her, too, without being able to run quickly.

"That's quite all right, Papa," said Éponine, smiling up at him. "I can run very quickly: watch!" She lifted her skirts and took off across the green turf.

This eight – year – old's speed struck Valjean dumb. She was nothing more than a pink blur in her nightgown. She circled the turf and returned to him, panting heavily. She dropped to her knees and looked up at him, excitement in those large brown doe eyes. "Was I not quick, Papa?"

"You were very, very quick, _comme un lapin_."

Éponine positively glowed.

"Who's there?" a haggard voice called suddenly.

Éponine squealed and ran to hide behind her father's knees. Valjean waved her to press herself against the wall, and she did. Valjean planted himself next to her against the wall and peered out.

An older gentleman was there, pointing a gardening hoe at them. Not a threat, if he was cautious. Valjean stepped out slowly, and Éponine followed suit.

"_Monsieur le maire_!" gasped the older gentleman. He dropped his gardening hoe and bowed. "Fauchlevent," he introduced himself. "I fell under my cart in Montreuil. You saved my life!"

"Fauchlevent," Valjean breathed. "It is I who am in need of saving tonight. These children and I need to disappear."

"You could take sanctuary here at the convent," offered Fauchlevent. "my brother passed away several months ago in Arles. You could take his name, if you worked with me here in the gardens."

An hour later, Valjean found himself with a new name, a new alibi, and two bedrooms in a convent. One had three little trundle beds for his daughters, and one for himself. A nun had decided that Cosette, Éponine, and Azelma could attend the convent school come the new year, and they had come up with warm flannel nightgowns for the girls.

"Come, _mes anges_," Valjean crooned. "you are filthy after our escapade. I've warmed this bath water over the fire's coals for you."

"Thank you, Papa," choroused Cosette and Éponine together. But Azelma stood stiffly in the middle of the room, holding her doll, _Neige_.

"I should like to bathe myself, thank you. I don't want to be seen naked."

Valjean was perplexed, but he answered, "Very well, Azelma."

Éponine, who'd been clean and fresh when he'd collected her in Montfermeil, and was now even dirtier than Cosette, came first. She stripped off her dirty pink nightdress, set Lily aside, and let her Papa scrub her behind the ears and under her soot – caked fingernails. A few minutes later, she crawled out and put on one of the new flannel nightgowns.

Next up, Cosette. She turned around and let the ragged fabric of her dress fall away. The sight of her was enough to make anyone gasp in horror.

Angry red welts criss – crossed over her back, that looked as though they'd been made y a belt or strap. Valjean hesitantly touched one of the welts, and the child barely flinched. She looked an even smaller creature once she was clean, and she said nothing as papa dried her with a thick cloth and she changed into her nightgown.

He let Azelma bathe herself, and, once that was done and he'd disposed of the dirty bath water, Valjean tucked his girls in.

Cosette and Éponine dutifully returned his kisses, but Azelma whimpered and pushed him away when he tried to give her a little peck on the forehead.

Valjean turned out the candles and began to close the door.

And then began Azelma's tears. He moved to open the door to try and console her, but Cosette was already there, sticking her little blond head out.

"Don't fret, Papa," she shushed him, " 'Ponine will soothe her."

And indeed, Éponine did, soothing Azelma's cries until the little thing was asleep. Valjean slipped off silently into his chambers, and although Azelma was asleep now, her small, shaking sobs, haunted his mind long after he, too, boarded the Shut – Eye Train, following him into Dreamland.

* * *

**Glossary of Used French Words**

_Comme un lapin_…like a rabbit

_Mes anges_…my angels


	4. Chapter 4: A New Life

Chapter 04…A New Life

* * *

**Quick Author's Note: I don't usually do these, but this is a quick note to anyone who's been reading my Maximum Ride story, ****_No Place Like Home_****. I am not deleting that story. It is on hold. I will start again when I finish ****_Just a Child_****.**

* * *

_There is a lady all in white_

_Holds me and sings a lullaby_

_She's nice to see and she's soft to touch_

_She says, 'Cosette, I love you very much.'_

~from _Castle on a Cloud_, young Cosette

* * *

**December 1823**

**Paris**

* * *

**Éponine**

**COME MORNING, COSETTE **and Azelma were already awake. Éponine sleepily rubbed at her eyes to see her sister – _sister_s, she reminded herself in delight – seated at the edge of their respective beds, combing their hair.

Éponine clambered out of bed. Now she saw Papa, huddled over the little table, spreading some jam and butter on a baguette.

"Come, children!" he said suddenly. "Here is your breakfast. I've obtained some hot milk from the Sisters as well as some freshly baked bread, jam, and butter. It is a simple breakfast, but it ought to fill your bellies."

In a flash, Éponine and Azelma were at the table. The Thenardier children reached for the bread and tore at it hungrily. It wasn't until she'd finished her first slice that Éponine realized Cosette was not with them. She was hovering uncertainly by, rocking her new doll.

"Cosette," said Éponine, waving her over. "Come. Won't you join us, Cosette?"

"Yes, Cosette," Papa put in. "Are you not hungry?"

"Oh, Papa," Cosette said meekly. "Could I?"

Éponine bowed her head. She knew Cosette had never been allowed to join them at the table back in Montfermeil. Sometimes, she'd dare suggest Cosette have something to eat at the table with the rest of the family, but had only been answered with Maman's obligatory "Do you want me to spank you?"

Now Cosette stood there, her blue eyes wide, as she stared at the food on the table.

"Of course, Cosette," Papa said, surprised. "Won't you join us? Have you ever tried raspberry jam?"

"Oh no, Papa," Cosette replied with wide eyes. "Madame would never allow me such a luxury!"

Éponine shifted uncomfortably. She glanced towards Azelma, looking for a reaction, but her russet – haired sister only happily tore into her baguette.

"Well," Papa intoned, "you'll try raspberry jam as of today. Come, Cosette, your milk is becoming cold."

"Oh, Papa!" breathed Cosette. She rushed to the table and took a seat between him and Éponine. She took her mug of steaming hot milk and took a long swig, eyes closing in satisfaction. She set it down and hunched over before taking a hesitant bite of her baguette.

She ate like this; just as she did at home, hesitant nibbles, peeking over her shoulder every so often. She got through one piece of bread when Éponine and Azelma got through four.

Before long, all the baguette was gone, and Cosette had only had three slices. Éponine had lost count of how many pieces she'd eaten, and her stomach turned in guilt. She feared that the baguette she'd eaten might be coming out the same way, but then Papa swept out a large bag of croissants.

"Oh, Papa!" gasped Cosette. "Oh, could I?"

"Of course, Cosette," Éponine said eagerly. She took her croissant and split it in two. "Here you are – you had so little baguette, and so you shall have some of my croissant."

Cosette smiled.

After breakfast, Papa stood. "My children," he began, "I will venture out for the day. I have some very important shopping to attend to. But today is a Saturday, and the other girls of the convent will be playing outside in the gardens. I'm quite sure the Sisters won't mind if you go in your nightgowns. Your own dresses, after all, are dirty."

Cosette looked up at Papa with pure, solemn adoration, a look that more or less matched Éponine's feelings for her new Papa, and she dutifully copied this gesture. A quick glance at their third party revealed Azelma to be fixing her gaze on Papa too, a cold stare.

Papa bowed his head. He planted a kiss on the crown of Cosette's head, then Éponine's. But, Éponine observed in confusion, when Papa went to kiss Azelma, she pushed him away. Papa seemed unfazed as he stood and went out the door with a wave of his hat.

Éponine immediately ran to the window. _What of the other children here? Will they want to play with me? Will they be kind to Cosette? And will Azelma be kind to them? _She opened the wooden shutters and poked her head out.

She could not see any children. There was only the whispery ghost of frost on the cold December ground, dead flower beds, and a well in the middle of it all. She sighed in disappointment, but couldn't bring herself to pull her head away just yet.

"'Ponine," she heard Cosette say, "do close the window. It's terribly cold!"

"I'm sorry," Éponine said quickly, remembering just how cold her friend – sister – must have been last night. She drew her head out and closed the shutters. "I was looking for the other children!"

"Oh, yes," Cosette said earnestly. Chill forgotten, she raced over and pushed the shutters open. "I don't see them yet. But there is a well. I could run down and fill it with water, then wash our dresses. I should like to keep my bonnet. It had been Maman's."

Éponine swallowed. All of Cosette's dresses had been given to her and Azelma upon her arrival, but Maman had told Cosette to keep the ragged little bonnet – cap that hadn't even fit her then.

"Oh, you needn't, Cosette…" Éponine began.

"No, no, how else shall we wash our things?" Cosette fretted, shutting the window once more. "You don't know how." She shot an accusatory glance at Éponine and Azelma. Éponine flushed, but Azelma only smirked.

"Oh yes," she said. "The Lark must do her duty!"

Éponine gave her sister a swat on the arm, but Azelma merely laughed, unfazed.

"If you must, Cosette," sighed Éponine, moving towards the door, "then wear my shoes and put on my fur!"

Cosette smiled. "Very well." She slipped her bare feet into the shoes, and tied the fur shawl round her bony shoulders. Picked up a bucket and set out the door.

Éponine set up the wash basin, placing it on the table. She took her and Azelma's dirty nightgowns, as well as Cosette's rags. The bonnet Cosette liked so much. And the new plaid shawl Cosette had been given.

She watched her new sister from the window. This bucket was much, much lighter than the one in Montfermeil, and she could carry it effortlessly, even full of water. In just a few minute's time, she was rapping on the door.

"Here, 'Ponine," she said brightly, dropping the bucket on the floor near the wash basin. "Thank you for the shoes and fur shawl. But you are my sister," she added with a smile, "and I suppose that is what sisters are for."

Éponine laughed. "Oh, yes, I suppose so too."

Cosette took off the shoes and fur and left them by the door. She hurried over to the basin and poured the water into it. She added soap and began washing.

As she did, she began to sing absently:

"_There is a room that's full of toys_

_There are a hundred boys and girls_

_Nobody shouts or talks too loud_

_Not in my castle on a cloud._"

Éponine looked at Azelma. Her little sister was not even paying Cosette the slightest bit of attention. Instead, she rocked _Neige_ in her arms, humming a very different song to herself.

Cosette washed and went on singing in a voice Éponine knew Azelma had always envied:

"_There is a lady all in white_

_Holds me and sings a lullaby_

_She's nice to see and she's soft to touch_

_She says, 'Cosette, I love you very much.' _"

Suddenly, Cosette lowered her head, tears welling up there. "Maman…" she whispered. Her gaze slid towards the doll Fantine, lying on Cosette's neatly made bed.

"Maman…" it was but a whisper.

Éponine made her way to Cosette's side, patting her back. "Hush now, Cosette. We have Papa. I'm quite sure he shall hold us and sing lullabies. He will tell us he loves us."

" _She says,_ '_Ponine, I love you very much_," Cosette singsonged. A giggle escaped her, and she wiped her tears away with the heel of her hand.

After the washing, Cosette hung the wet dresses and shawls over the little stools and huddled over the hearth, lit a small fire. "That should dry the clothes," she said happily.

All of a sudden, the jovial shouts of children wafted into the room through the cracks in the shutters. Éponine, Cosette, and Azelma exchanged earnest looks before picking up their dolls and racing to the door. Éponine and Azelma wrapped their fur shawls round themselves, and slipped into their shoes.

But, suddenly, Cosette paused, looking down at her bare toes. "Oh. I shouldn't like to go out without any shoes, or shawl. You and Azelma go play, 'Ponine. I shall stay here."

"Oh, Cosette," murmured Éponine. Not for the first time, guilt began to prickle at her soul. "Oh, no, you cannot stay here alone. Azelma and I will stay here and play with you. We could play with the dolls, or play games with the spoons." She took off her fur shawl and hung it up on the little hook. " 'Zelma, won't you show us the game you played last night?"

To Éponine's horror, Azelma raised her chin. "I shall play outside, thank you, 'Ponine." And with that, she tied her own fur shawl tighter and took off out the door.

Cosette watched her, looking utterly unsure whether to be relieved or hurt. Éponine hurried to take control of the situation. She and Cosette may have both been eight, but Éponine's birthday was in August, while Cosette's was at the very end of November, making 'Ponine just a little bit older.

"Leave her," she assured her sister. "You and I shall play with Fantine and Lily."

"Yes," Cosette said. A small smile lit her face. "Yes, we shall."

* * *

**Azelma**

It was a bit chilly, but Azelma didn't mind. She was happy to meet the other girls. In a flash, four were already upon her.

They seemed to be a little bit older than she, by a year or two. One was tall, with dark red hair tied in two braids underneath her beautiful hat. The shortest one had brown hair, short and only down to her shoulders. A thin one with very long blond hair scowled and crossed her arms. A girl with curly black hair, who could be called stocky, mimed her.

The redhead spoke first. "Who, pray tell, are _you_?"

Azelma bristled. "I am Azelma."

"Oh?" sneered the redhead. "Well, Azelma. Have you only just come to join us?"

"I have," Azelma said, struggling to keep her voice level.

"You're only wearing your nightdress!" piped the brown haired girl. But she was suddenly distracted by another prospect. "What a lovely doll you have."

Azelma smirked. "Isn't she?"

The brown haired girl took a step forwards. "My name is Adélaïde. This – " she gestured to the blonde – "is Noëlle_." _She pointed to the chubby one. "She is Isabelle, and my friend who is interrogating you is Simone._"_

Adélaïde paused. "Welcome. Where do you come from, pray tell?"

"From a village called Montfermeil. Do you know it?" Azelma replied.

"_Bien sûr_ !" exclaimed Adélaïde. "My grandmother resides there."

"Does she?"

"Enough dilly – dally," ordered Simone. "There are many questions I must ask of you…Azelma."

"For instance?" Azelma said coolly.

"Have you any sisters?"

Azelma paused. "Yes. My older sister 'Ponine. And we've come with our former servant girl. Cosette."

Simone paused. "So you've no one to play with?"

"I was hoping I could play with you."

Noëlle spoke. "You desire…our friendship?"

"To put it quite plainly, yes," Azelma said in irritation.

"Well," said Noëlle slowly. "To earn our trust, there is something you must do."

_What is this? Azelma, if you know what's good for you, you'll go find some kinder girls to play with._

"Name it," Azelma said at once.

It was Simone who spoke. "Tonight, you are to meet us here at precisely midnight. Then we shall give you your task."

* * *

**Glossary of Used French Words**

_Bien sûr_ _…_of course


	5. Chapter 5: Forgiven

Chapter 05…Forgiven

* * *

**Disclaimer: The scene in the chapel was inspired by a scene in Libba Bray's ****_A Great and Terrible Beauty._**** Not the bit with Cosette, but with Azelma's task. And yes, I am aware this is the second time I've used the quote.**

* * *

_Please do not send me out alone_

_Not in the darkness on my own._

~from _Water From the Well_, young Cosette

* * *

**December 1823**

**Paris**

* * *

**Valjean**

**THE MOMENT VALJEAN **opened the door, he found Cosette and Éponine upon him, bouncing up and down for joy with cries of "Papa! Papa!"

Azelma was inside, seated by a fire Valjean could not remember lighting. She was playing with her doll, _Neige_, and Éponine's doll Lily.

_The child must be traumatized, being taken from her home in the blink of an eye. Give her time, Jean, and she will warm up to you_.

"Papa, whatever have you bought us?" Éponine said excitedly.

"Patience, _ma fille_," Valjean chuckled. "Let me set down the bags and take off my coat."

Reluctantly, Éponine let go of his arm and took a step back. But the moment, he set the heavy bags down, she'd grabbed one of the bags. She opened it to find a French translation of Mother Goose, as well as a large, beautiful illustrated book of children's poetry.

"Éponine, patience!" chided Valjean. He took the bag from her before she could uncover more secrets and took it between his knees as he sat on the bed. But Éponine was already flipping through the poetry book with quick flicks.

"I never cared much for reading," she sighed, setting it aside. Normally, Valjean would have chastised her, but today, he would let it be. Éponine reached for the next parcel, but Valjean pushed it aside with a chuckle.

"Éponine, _cherie_, I will not say it again…"

"Patience!" Cosette piped. She hurried to sit between him and Éponine.

Valjean also revealed, from the package Éponine had opened, a long coil of rope with wooden handles at both ends, and a small leather ball. A little china tea set for dolls.

Éponine took the rope in her hands, indescribable delight written all over her face.

"What is that, 'Ponine?" Cosette questioned.

"A skipping rope!" Éponine explained excitedly. "It's the loveliest game, Cosette, we can play later!"

As they chatted, Valjean tore open the next, largest package. He produced, first, three pairs of warm black leather boots, three woolen coats – blue for Azelma, pink for Éponine, and red for Cosette – as well as matching scarves, hats, and mittens.

Éponine and Cosette cooed in delight over the outfits, and even Azelma cast them an impressed glance.

It was only the beginning.

Valjean took many beautiful warm dresses of all sorts of colours, as well as some lighter ones for the summer months. Stockings came next, all white lace, followed by a variety of blouses and skirts. Upon each item he pulled out, Cosette's eyes grew just a little bit larger.

"Papa, there is still one more package," said 'Ponine.

"That there is," agreed Valjean with a smile. He took the package to reveal four small desserts.

"Vanilla Crème Brûlée!" cried Éponine in delight.

"Come," said Valjean, ushering the girls towards the table. "Let us eat."

"Yes, Papa," Éponine and Cosette chorused. The two girls hurried over to the stools. Valjean suddenly noticed that somebody had done the washing: Éponine and Azelma's nightgowns, as well as Cosette's old rag of a dress and new shawl, were draped over the stools, looking much cleaner.

"Have the Sisters done the washing for you?" he inquired the girls.

Cosette spoke up. "No, Papa, though they came with some fresh bread and fruit for us to eat. I did the washing. There was a well in the garden, you see." She picked up her shawl. "It would seem that everything is dry."

She took the dresses – even her rags – and folded them neatly before placing them in the dresser.

"Azelma, do you want something to eat?" Valjean asked the little russet – haired girl. "When did the Sisters come with the bread and fruit?"

"Quite a while ago," she said absently. She walked over and took a seat on one of the stools.

"I've never had crème brûlée before," Cosette murmured, accepting a silver spoon. She took a hesitant bite. Her eyes closed in pleasure. "_Hmmm_!" She raised her head. "Delicious!"

Valjean chuckled as she devoured it, cream just about spilling from the corners of her small mouth. Her manners would need some work. But that was hardly an issue. He would deal with it later, come January.

Just as Cosette had only a few bites left, her small shoulders hunched and she peered over her shoulder. She polished off the dessert in much smaller bites.

It was the same way she'd eaten the baguette that morning, and Valjean feared this had something to do with her time in Montfermeil with the Thenardiers. Éponine had said Cosette was her friend, when fate had landed her in his care, and now he could see their close bond plain as day.

Azelma and Éponine, meanwhile, had already finished their treats. The youngest girl had taken the china tea set and begun to play Tea Party with her doll, _Neige_, and Éponine's doll Lily.

Éponine, meanwhile, waited anxiously for her new sister to finish her crème brûlée, and when Cosette finally did, the brunette took the leather ball.

"Do you know how to play Catch, Cosette?" she asked.

Cosette shook her head. "No."

"Oh, it's very simple! All you must do is - "

"Girls!" Valjean said sharply. Both froze and spun to look at him. "_Oui_?" they said in unison.

Valjean chastised them, "Please do not throw a ball around inside your room. Put on your new lovely coats and go outside. Azelma, will you be joining them?"

The girl didn't even turn his way. "No."

Valjean nodded. "Very well. But, Azelma, is it all right with you if I go to my own chambers? I believe I will do some reading." While he'd been out, Valjean had also bought a book that would teach him how to deal with simple illness and injury, when a doctor was necessary.

"It is not a problem." That straightforward stare, same monotone.

The door opened. Valjean spun, but it was only Cosette and Éponine, hurrying out to play with their ball.

Valjean bent down. "Azelma," he said gently.

No response.

"Azelma…I understand that you are frightened, and worried. You miss your parents in Montfermeil. But, given time, I hope that one day you will come to call me Papa."

Azelma started, daring to glance at him with those large brown doe eyes of hers. "I am fine. I am not frightened. I am not worried."

Cosette and Éponine's shouts of laughter seeped into the room. Valjean stood and poked his head out to see them. They both had on their new boots, coats, and hats.

_Bishop Myriel_, he thought, _what shall I do with Azelma? Two of my daughters seem to be happy, but one does not? What shall I do?_

* * *

**Azelma**

At 11:55 at night, Azelma Thenardier (now Azelma Fauchlevent) crawled out of her bed. She did not put on her shoes or boots, fearing they might make too much noise, but she wrapped the fur shawl round her shoulders.

She hardly needed to worry about Éponine: her sister could sleep through anything, but Cosette was often woken by the smallest noise. A mouse crawling over straw. The wind.

Silently, Azelma opened and closed the door behind her, and hurried outside.

Not a soul.

She waited.

Not a soul.

Azelma began to walk slowly towards the main dormitories. Perhaps the girls were there…

"BOO!"

Something grabbed the hem of her flannel nightgown. A scream escaped her, high – pitched and terrified.

"Hush! Do you want to wake the entire convent?"

Azelma looked down. Simone and Isabelle were crouched behind the well. It was Simone's hand on her skirt.

"You frightened me!" she answered haughtily. "What else was I to do but scream?"

Simone sniffed disdainfully. "What a baby she is, don't you agree, Isabelle?"

"Where are the others?" Azelma cut in. She pouted and crossed her arms over her chest, trying to look grown up.

"Sleeping," Simone dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. "Now, should you like to be our friend?"

_No. You all strike me as horrid girls. I should like to play with 'Ponine, but she won't be playing with me now that Cosette is here._

_And that con man…well. He is a thief!_

"Of course I want to be your friend."

"Very well," Simone murmured. "And so I shall give you your task: you are to go into the chapel and drink the Holy Water. Alone," she added.

Azelma froze. She could not do that. She could not drink the Holy Water, just for friendship with a few girls she didn't even like. While Azelma had never been raised very religiously, something about this felt terribly wrong.

"I shall do it!"

Azelma allowed Simone and Isabelle to lead her to the chapel. Simone pressed a finger to her lips as she lifted the heavy bolt.

"You must drink it. We will know if you don't, because we will go look. The basin by the altar must be completely empty."

Azelma swallowed and reached for the candle Isabelle was dutifully holding, but the dark – haired girl pulled it out of reach.

"Whatever are you doing?" Isabelle asked coldly.

"You can't very well expect me to do this in the darkness!"

"Feel your way," Simone pushed her in.

Azelma made her way forwards slowly, trying to get a good look at the room. And the door shut behind her with a _click_.

Engulfed in utter darkness, a single thought ran through Azelma's head.

They've locked me in.

She raced towards the door again, pounded at it with her fists. "Let me out! _Let me out_!"

She was responded with nothing but cruel laughter. Simone managed to gasp out between giggles, "You didn't honestly believe you'd be our friend, did you? Ha! I'm sure you haven't any proper clothes, going about in your nightgown in the daytime like that. We'll let you out if you drink the Water."

Azelma shuddered, struck by just how cold it was. Beneath her bare feet, the floor of the chapel was icy cold, and she wondered if this was how Cosette had felt only last night, the night everything changed.

_I want to go home!_

She couldn't even see her hand in front of her face. Not a sliver of moonlight leaked in through the stained glass windows.

Hesitantly, Azelma began to try and make her way towards the altar.

_Just drink the Water…_

She tripped on the steps leading up the altar. Her arms went out flying to break her fall, but her palms only skidded along the marble of the floors. Her knee took an especially nasty slam.

A wail escaped Azelma, and she huddled there. Her wails mounted into heavy sobs, and she wanted nothing more than to collapse onto her familiar bed at home.

The darkness was penetrated, suddenly, by the faint orange-glow of candlelight. _The Bishop?_

As the figure approached, Azelma saw that it couldn't be the Bishop, it was much too small.

_Simone?_

The candlelight flickered, and the light fell on this mysterious person's face.

"Cosette!" Azelma cried.

Cosette walked over and set the candle down on the steps. " 'Zelma," she answered. "I heard you get up, and I came to see what you were doing."

Azelma couldn't control herself. She collapsed into Cosette's arms, starting to cry again. Cosette didn't flinch, she just sat there, letting Azelma cry. Eventually, the seven – year – old's wails suppressed into whimpers.

Azelma pulled away. "Did you hear everything?"

"Everything." Cosette confirmed.

"Will you tell?"

Cosette shook her head. "No, I won't, 'Zelma."

Azelma sniffled. "Thank you, Cosette." She paused and raised her head to look at her former servant girl. "I am sorry. I've been nothing but horrid to you, and you reply with nothing but kindness."

Azelma swallowed. "Do you believe we could be sisters now?"

Cosette nodded. "Forgiven."

* * *

**Glossary of Used French Words**

_Ma fille_…my girl/my daughter

_Cherie_…my dear

_Oui_…yes


	6. Chapter 6: Father and Daughter

Chapter 06…Father and Daughter

* * *

_Suddenly the world_

_Seems a different place_

_Somehow_

_Full of grace_

_Full of light._

~from _Suddenly_ (movie musical only), Valjean

* * *

**January 1824**

**Paris**

* * *

**Cosette**

**IT WAS NICE** to have Azelma playing with her. The last time Azelma had been kind to her was five years ago, when Maman had left her with the Thenardiers and they'd played together.

Tomorrow, Cosette would begin school. She was terrified; she didn't know how to read or write, or count past twenty. Azelma had begun schooling in September, and of course 'Ponine had begun the year before her.

It had snowed the last night, and while the eaves of the convent protected most of the garden from it, Cosette thought about how snowy it must be outside.

She shuddered.

"Let's play outside today, Cosette," Éponine said decidedly. "I've showed you all sorts of games with the ball, but you still cannot play skip rope."

Papa nodded. "Will you be playing outside?"

"Yes, Papa," Éponine said earnestly. "We'll be showing Cosette how to skip rope! It's such a fun game! Did you play it as a child, Papa?"

Papa laughed. " 'Ponine, skipping rope had always been a game for little girls, not little boys! But my sister would always play outside with the neighborhood girls."

Cosette frowned, confused. "You have a sister, Papa? Where is she?"

Papa shook his head. "I have not seen my sister in over twenty years, _mon enfant_. I do not know where she lives today. But why don't the three of you have fun, today? I will be gardening, of course, with _Monsieur_ Fauchlevent. Perhaps I will see you."

"Yes, Papa," Cosette agreed. She, Azelma, and Éponine finished their breakfast and buttered bread and hot milk. The schoolgirls here – including those horrid ones who'd dared Azelma to drink the Holy Water – all ate downstairs in the main hall, with the Sisters.

But because of their unique situation, Cosette, Éponine, and Azelma all ate with Papa in their room, though once they began schooling, they would eat small meals at mid day with the other girls.

"I shouldn't like to go to school," pouted Azelma, "for…"

Cosette realized what she was going to say – _for_ _those nasty, nasty, girls_ – and interrupted. "Come, let's play with the skipping rope!"

Éponine and Azelma shot to their feet. "Yes, yes!"

Cosette slowly walked over to the wardrobe and looked at the dresses that fit her. There were so many warm, woolen dresses for her to put on, all beautiful and clean and new.

_The last time I had such dresses was when…when I was with…Maman._

Not for the first time, the tiny eight – year – old saw it fit to wipe away the tears that threatened to form in her beautiful blue eyes. "Maman…"

"She says, 'Cosette, I love you very much.'" Cosette whispered to herself. She sat down, cross-legged, on the floor, wrapped her thin arms round herself in a sort of hug. Spoke softly to herself again, "Maman…"

"Cosette, does this dress contemplate my eyes?" Azelma's bright chirp snapped her out of her mourning.

Azelma was holding out a pure, white, woolen dress with full sleeves and lace at the hem. Cosette cocked her head, thinking. _It could. The dress is so very white, and 'Zelma's eyes are quite dark…I suppose it would look quite nice on her._

"It does," she said agreeably. "It does."

Azelma let out a cry of joy and ran to put it on. Éponine had already pulled on a beautiful gown of the brightest yellow, and now she admired herself in the looking glass.

Cosette quickly grabbed an attractive pale orange gown, fumbling with the buttons at the back. She wasn't used to such nice clothing; in Montfermeil, she'd only been allowed to wear the same filthy rags, and she hadn't changed into anything at night.

She'd slept in the barn in the summer and on the floor in the kitchen when winters were harsh. She never had any blankets, never had anything soft to cushion her head from the hard rocks of the floor.

Cosette, Éponine, and Azelma put on their coats, mittens, hats, and boots – the weather today was too mild for scarves – and rushed to play outside.

Cosette noticed the way Azelma skirted the area for those two horrible girls from that Christmas night, but they didn't seem to be there. A group of older girls were laughing and huddling over a piece of paper, and some girls her age were engrossed in a game of Blind Man's Bluff, but there was no sign of the two girls from the other night.

Cosette took Azelma by the shoulder and whispered into her ear, "They are not here, 'Zelma, don't fret."

Azelma swallowed. "Yes."

Éponine, oblivious, uncoiled the long rope. She handed one end to Azelma, and the other to Cosette. "Here you are, my sister."

Cosette blinked. "Oh! But I do not know how to play the game!"

"It's easy," Éponine said excitedly. "All you must do is spin the rope, as so." She nodded to Azelma, and took the handle from Cosette.

Cosette watched, curious, as the two seemed to spin the rope in unison, so that it formed great circles. After a minute, Éponine stopped and handed her end to Cosette.

"Now you try."

Cosette obliged, and she laughed as, indeed, she got the rope to work the right way. "But this is a game for two, 'Ponine! And…and it isn't such fun, either."

"No, Cosette, stop," Éponine instructed.

Cosette found she couldn't stop, couldn't stop the spinning of her wrist. But Éponine set her hand on Cosette's, and the rope fell from her hands.

"Now, pick it up," Éponine instructed proudly, and Cosette obliged.

"You are mistaken, Cosette. Not only is Skip Rope a game for three little girls, it's fun too!"

She ran over to stand in between Cosette and Azelma, just by the rope. "And, spin!" she cried happily.

Cosette spun, and to her astonishment, Éponine leapt over the rope when it came her way. Upon every spin, Éponine would leap effortlessly over the upcoming rope. She and Azelma began to chant: "_Mistress Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? With silver bells and cockle shells and pretty maids all in a row_!"

And the two would burst into giggles.

Cosette raised her head to look at the sky. _Maman,_ _this is all lovely. I have 'Ponine, and now 'Zelma, and we will never be apart! I've a Papa who loves me, and I'm going to learn how to read! _

She laughed, and closed her eyes in satisfaction.

_I've reached my castle on a cloud._

* * *

**Valjean**

**COSETTE AND ÉPONINE **came to him in giggles at the end of the day, gasping for air.

"Papa! Papa!" Éponine cried, launching herself into his arms. "Cosette skipped rope! She tried only once, and she did it!"

Valjean turned to the little blonde, impressed. "Is this so, Cosette?"

Cosette mumbled something while fumbling with the hem of her dress.

Valjean laughed and hugged her too. "I believe," he said, "there is something we will do before you begin schooling tomorrow."

The girls pulled themselves out of his hug. "What is it, Papa?"

Valjean smiled, "We'll go for an outing, at the Jardin du Luxembourg."

"The Jardin du Luxembourg!" gasped Éponine. "Why, I've heard of it! Is it true, Papa, that it is alive with the most beautiful flowers? And that there are great ponds with little boats to play with?"

Valjean laughed. "Yes, Éponine. This is true. Now, will Azelma be coming with us?"

"I'll ask her, Papa!" Éponine turned and took off across the green turf. In a minute, she was back. "Azelma wants to stay and play with the dolls, Papa."

Cosette seemed upset by this, but agreed to leave Fantine behind for Azelma to play with. After he adjusted the girl's hats and collars, and taking Azelma upstairs, Valjean ushered his girls outside.

"The snow!" Éponine cried out happily.

"The snow…" Cosette murmured with wide, frightened eyes.

The _jardin_ was not far from the convent, and the moment the girls set foot inside, they both drew in a breath. "Oh…"

" 'Ponine," said Cosette quietly. She tapped the brunette on the arm and pointed at something. Éponine craned her neck to look, then bowed her head and gave a nod.

"Yes. Shall we?"

"Oh, let's!" Cosette exclaimed eagerly. She pulled her warm hat further down her ears and took off across the white ground, Éponine at her heels.

"Cosette! Éponine!" Valjean called after them, but he soon saw they weren't running very far, just to the great swing.

After a ride, Éponine was on her knees in the snow, giggling in delight, but Cosette hovered uncertainly by, staring at her boots.

Valjean went to her side, set a hand on her shoulder. "Cosette. What's the matter?"

Cosette raised her head, blue eyes full of fear. "The snow, Papa."

"What of the snow?" he coaxed.

Éponine looked up, and Valjean sensed a grave look in her eyes.

_What is this?_

"It was…" Cosette whispered. She shivered. "That night." Those bright blue eyes turned on him. "Papa, that night…in the woods, the night you came for me…" A hiccup. "That night, in the woods, the snow…it was so cold, Papa. Madame sent me out. It was dark and cold and I was so frightened and…" She whimpered and buried her face in his shoulders. "I didn't have any shoes, and I was walking through the snow like that, and…"

She burst into tears.

Valjean held her close, soothing her until her heavy sobs subsided. He noticed Éponine come and pat Cosette gently, stroking her hair.

"You're warm now, Cosette." Valjean breathed in her ear. "Hush now. You're warm. Papa has you. Papa has you."

Cosette sniffed and pulled back, a tiny smile playing on her lips. "Yes, Papa. Could be return now? Please? I'm sleepy."

Éponine opened her mouth to object, but she quickly realized just how upset her sister was, and she nodded. "Come, Cosette."

When they returned, Azelma was asleep, _Neige_ tucked under the crook of her arm. Valjean took this opportunity to press his lips against her temple as Cosette and Éponine ducked behind a curtain to put on their nightgowns.

The moment Valjean tucked Éponine in, she was fast asleep. She must have been more tired than she'd let on. Valjean moved to Cosette's bed.

"Cosette," he said gently. "Are you warm now?"

Through a yawn, the tiny blonde murmured, "Quite, Papa." Then, sleepily, "Papa?"

Valjean stroked her hair. "Cosette, _mon ange_?"

Cosette mumbled, "Papa, the night we came here…why was that Inspector chasing us?"

Valjean's breath caught in his throat and he choked a bit. _What now?_ But he only ran his fingers through her golden hair and answered, "That is not for little girls to worry about, my darling. Go to sleep now."

And she did, leaving Valjean with a pounding heart of relief that his daughter was so easily pleased.

But at any time, one of his daughters might get a bit more demanding. And then what?

* * *

**Glossary of Used French Words**

_Mon enfant_…my child

_Jardin_…garden

_Mon ange_…my angel


	7. Chapter 7: Don't You Fret

Chapter 07…Don't You Fret

* * *

_And you will keep me safe_

_And you will keep me close_

_I'll sleep in your embrace at last…_

~from _A Little Fall of Rain_, Éponine

* * *

**January 1824**

**Paris**

* * *

**Cosette**

**"HELP ME WITH** my buttons, will you?" Cosette turned around for Éponine. "I cannot reach them!"

Éponine nodded and took the pink fabric of Cosette's dress. She did the buttons carefully, brushing Cosette's hair out of the way where necessary.

"Do you suppose I could take _Neige_ with me to school today?" Azelma rang out in a petulant tone. She turned from side to side, admiring herself in the looking glass. "Do you suppose anyone will like my red dress?"

Cosette nodded quickly to Éponine in thanks and turned to the little ginger girl. "Your dress looks beautiful, Azelma. There couldn't be a soul on Earth who doesn't like it."

Azelma beamed. "Excellent!" Then she glanced over her shoulder, saw that Papa was busy with breakfast, and whispered in Cosette's ear: "Cosette, I am glad you forgave me because, in these past few days, you've proven to be one of the very best sisters I could imagine! You and 'Ponine," she added hastily.

Cosette shook her head. "I am happy to have forgiven you, Azelma Fauchlevent."

Azelma's brown eyes, full of joy just moments ago, turned cold. "Azelma _Thenardier_, thank you kindly."

Cosette blinked in surprise, and even Éponine raised an eyebrow. "Azelma," Cosette murmured, "Oh, Azelma, that is in the past…"

"I am Azelma Thenardier," Azelma repeated angrily. She looked down at the dress. "And I hate this dress! I'll put on another one!"

She raced behind the curtain, out of sight.

Éponine wandered over to Cosette. "Whatever is the matter with her?" the brunette asked of the blonde.

Cosette sighed, bending over to make her bed. "She misses your Maman and old Papa, I suppose."

_There is that word again. Maman._

Cosette swallowed, mumbled, "I never did know my Papa, and I scarcely remember my Maman. And yet…I miss her terribly. I only remember two things of Maman, you know."

Éponine cocked her head. "Tell me."

Cosette walked over to the window and stared up at the sky, where she was certain Maman must be. "Her name, of course, Fantine. And the bonnet. I remember she left me the bonnet to grow into." She turned to face her sister. "Do you suppose she's…well…_there_?"

"Not hell, surely?"

"No, no, and not heaven either. I meant the castle on a cloud. Do you suppose - ?"

But whether or not Éponine might suppose anything, Cosette would never know, because Azelma came out clad in violet.

"I like this much better," she said matter-of-factly. "Now, shall we attend our lessons?"

* * *

**Éponine**

**IT HAD BEEN** two weeks, and already Éponine was bored beyond words. How many sums did she have to memorize, how many texts would she have to read before she couldn't take it anymore?

She found, when reading with Papa, many of the fairy stories were quite entertaining, for at least something _happened_ in them. The texts she was forced to read at the convent's school were nothing but dull biblical passages.

The next agonizing Sunday rolled by – a day for Mass, ye gods! – and while Cosette dutifully prepared herself with Papa, and Azelma sulked because she sulked at everything, Éponine found that she was whining.

"How much longer must we stay here in this convent, Papa? Those blasted Inspectors are long gone, and I should like to find a lovely home and play!"

"Éponine!" Papa snapped. "The Sisters have given us a place of sanctuary, and we must all be more grateful to them!"

Éponine sighed heavily. "_Yes_, Papa. _Je sais_."

* * *

**Valjean**

**AN HOUR LATER,** Valjean had his three daughters in the pews for Mass. Cosette had her head bowed obediently, hands folded in prayer. Azelma seemed half – hearted, and Éponine was downright pouting, scuffling her feet, arms crossed stubbornly across her chest.

Valjean sighed; while Azelma was still cold towards him, Éponine had proven to be the most difficult of the children to deal with, the most stubborn and independent – minded.

Hesitantly, Valjean lowered his own head in prayer, until the hymns began. Éponine continued to scowl, Azelma grudgingly sang, and Cosette's little voice simply poured out of her, the sweet, clear, high crooning of childhood.

But other than his daughter's voice, another couldn't fail to be noticed. This voice was rougher, lower, masculine.

Valjean raised his head, and there he was, two pews ahead to the right.

Javert.

He shot to his feet, grabbing Cosette and Azelma's arms. Azelma snatched hers away; Cosette looked up at him in confusion.

"Papa?" she whispered, frowning.

Now Éponine looked concerned, her brow furrowed. "Papa, where are we going?"

"We are leaving the convent," he whispered distractedly, and Éponine's little face lit up.

"Oh, Papa!" she breathed.

"Hush, _mes enfants_!" he ordered. "We must be going now, quickly and quietly."

His confused daughters obeyed, peering over their shoulders. Azelma's eyes grew wide as she saw Javert. Did she recognize him from that night?

Valjean swept Cosette up in one arm. He reached for Azelma, but she resisted, and so he took Éponine. The brunette and the blonde held on tightly as he ran, Azelma hurrying on behind.

"Pack your things!" he ordered as soon as he deposited them onto the floor of the bedroom. "We are leaving!"

"Why, Papa? Why are we leaving?" Cosette complained. "I've come to like it here. I can write my name, as well as a few other words, and I can count to sixty now."

"Cosette!" Valjean said, more harshly than he intended. "No questions! Pack your things!"

He watched as the tiny blonde stumbled back and hurried over to her wardrobe, gathering heaps of dresses. She folded each one neatly, those striking eyes darting back nervously to land on him.

By the time she'd laid the third or fourth neatly folded dress into a large _valise_, Valjean snatched the dresses out of her hand. "We've no time for this, Cosette!" he snapped. "You do not have to fold them!"

Éponine and Azelma took to shoving their own dresses into the _valise_, confused. Cosette looked on the verge of tears, but she whimpered and nodded and took Valjean's hand.

"Why are we leaving so suddenly? Papa, will you say? Won't you tell me?"

The more time they spent in the bedroom, the more anxious Valjean became. Javert was here. Javert was _here_. Here! In the convent! His heart pounding madly, he wrenched his arm out of the little girl's grip.

"Pack your things!" he shouted. "Now!" And he lashed out at her.

Didn't even think about what he was doing, just lashed out.

He missed her by inches, thank Heavens, but this small action was enough to snap Valjean to his senses.

"Cosette," he stammered, "please. Forgive me. I should not have shouted at you like that. Come to Papa."

To his horror, the child neither obeyed him nor refused to do his bidding. Instead, she crumpled onto the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. Her lower lip began to tremble, and her eyes began to tear up.

"Cosette…" Valjean began. He stretched out an arm for her, but with a whimper she pulled back.

"Don't touch me!"

Éponine and Azelma looked on hesitantly, matching dark eyes wide with concern, and…was that…no, there was no denying it.

Fear.

"Cosette." Valjean tried again, taking a step towards her. She pulled back the moment his fingers whispered against her arm.

"Don't touch me! Leave me alone!" Cosette's words ended in a wail. Then: "Please…"

Once again, Valjean reached for her, but to his utter dismay, Cosette screamed this time. "Please….I….Madame…" Her eyes were screwed tightly shut; her hands had left her knees and were now clasped over her ears. "Please, Madame…"

"Cosette," Valjean whispered. He reached for her, and this time she didn't protest. One eye cracked open.

"Papa?" she whispered. "Papa? Have you come for me?"

Valjean nodded. "Yes, Cosette. Don't you fret, Papa's here. Papa's here."

Cosette threw her arms around his neck. Burst into tears. "_Papa_! I thought…I thought…that Madame…she always hit me and beat me, you see, and…oh, Papa!"

Valjean felt his stomach lurch. He held Cosette close as he said softly, "Yes, Cosette…I know. Hush now. Hush."

Eventually, Éponine came over and joined the embrace. Valjean held both girls close, until Cosette's sobs subdued and Éponine seemed a bit less frightened.

Only Azelma stood by the doorway. During the group hug, she'd finished and done all the packing, even Valjean's. She averted her gaze every time Valjean so much as looked her way, but she held the _valise_ in one hand, her doll in the other.

"Are we truly leaving, then?" Cosette's voice was muffled in his shoulder.

Valjean lovingly stroked her little cheek. "Yes, I'm afraid so. Did you want to stay?"

Cosette sniffled. "Papa, what of my education?"

Valjean set one hand on Cosette's shoulder, the other one Éponine's. "I will teach all of you myself, at our home."

A look of utter joy passed through the eyes of both little girls. It was then Valjean realized that one of his sleeves had rolled up slightly, revealing his wrist.

His wrist and the scars there.

He moved to hide them, but Éponine had already noticed. "Papa," she said in confusion, "Papa, what is this?"

Valjean shook his head. "It is nothing for you to worry about. Come, now, we'll away."

Cosette sniffed and nodded. "Very well, Papa."

"I apologize for lashing out as I did, _mon amour_." Valjean managed. "Forgive me."

Cosette smiled. "Yes, Papa. Of course I forgive you."

An hour later, he was once more in the busy, bustling streets of Paris. Valjean inquired at many homes, but it wasn't until late evening he found the perfect place.

Rue Plumet, number 55. It was not a terribly large home, but it was far away from most of the main roads, and it housed a garden outside. It was dead now, of course, for the winter, but with a bit of work, it could prove to be alive and overflowing with beauty and life.

Tomorrow, Valjean would find another, smaller apartment, in case Javert ever found them.

The house at Rue Plumet had two bedrooms, so the three girls could share one like they did at the convent.

Valjean felt horribly guilty for having nearly hit Cosette – what she must have gone through at Montfermeil – and when footsteps sounded outside his door, he was sure it would be the small blonde.

But it was Éponine.

"Éponine, what is the matter? Could you not sleep?" Valjean sat up.

Éponine trotted over. "Yes, Papa. I couldn't sleep at all!" She stood at the edge of the bed. "Papa, a thought has been bothering me for quite a while now."

Valjean patted a spot next to him on the bed, and Éponine sat down, barely a silhouette in the darkness.

"What thought has been bothering you, my girl?"

Éponine sighed. "The scars on your wrist, Papa. Wherever do they come from? Why do you have those scars?"

Valjean felt his blood run cold. "That is not for you to worry about, my dear one. Now, if you cannot sleep, you may stay here with me – "

Éponine interrupted him, "Papa, you've told us that many a time: _'That is not or you to worry about.' 'That is not for little girls to worry about.'_ Ye gods, Papa – I am not such a gullible child! I should like to know exactly what is happening. Where did you acquire those hideous scars? You must tell me!"

The word _must_ was emphasized with a stubborn stomping of her foot.

"Éponine," Valjean sighed. He took the eight – year – old's little hand in his. "They are scars from my past…my…my own Papa would…would…" _Would what?_ "Would often beat me if I misbehaved."

His skin crawled in the guilt of his lie. In truth, his own Papa had been a very, very kind man who would never lay an unloving hand on his Jean or his daughter. But perhaps this lie might satisfy Éponine.

Éponine shook her head. Apparently not. "These scars look as though you were whipped. Who whips on the wrist? Even my old Papa and Maman, they only whipped Cosette on the back. And, as I'm quite sure you know, such scars fade over time. When were you a child, anyhow? How old _are_ you?"

Valjean didn't see the need to lie this time. For, he mused, he'd been caught red handed in his last one. "I am fifty."

Éponine shook her head. "I know that there is something you won't tell me. I know that you are lying to me, Papa. I do not know why, but I hope that one day, you shall tell me the truth."

"One day," Valjean said faintly. "Please do not tell your sisters of this encounter."

Éponine sighed. "Yes, Papa." She turned to go, but in the doorway, she paused. Turned again. "You have six months."

Valjean shook his head and laughed ruefully. "Is that so, _ma petite_?"

Éponine nodded. "Indeed. Really, Papa. I cannot fathom why you wouldn't tell your own daughter of your past. You must be hiding something terribly dark and deep."

Valjean bowed his head. "I will tell you in time, Éponine."

Éponine walked back to him. "You'll never tell me, will you? You shan't tell me until the day you die."

"Don't you fret, Éponine," Valjean answered her. "I suppose I can only hide my...secret for so long."

* * *

**Glossary of Used French Words**

_Je sais_…I know

_Mes enfants_…my children

_Valise_…trunk

_Mon amour_…my love

_Ma petite_…my little one (feminine)


	8. Chapter 8: A Ploy in Action

Chapter 08…A Ploy in Action

* * *

**Author's Note: Quotes from the ****_Les Mis_**** musical have been dispensed with and won't reappear until the Epilogue.**

* * *

**February 1824**

**Paris**

* * *

**Azelma**

* * *

**"TODAY, ** **MY CHILDREN,** is a very special day," the _monsieur_ began.

Monsieur_? Whoever do you think you are, calling such a man a _monsieur? _Azelma Thenardier, you just may have gone round the bend!_

"What is it, Papa?" Cosette chirped from her armchair by the window. She was busy sewing something, and she'd been working on it for quite a while now.

The – _he does not deserve the title of a _monsieur_, Azelma!_ _And yet…_Azelma twisted a lock of her auburn hair round one finger. _And yet he has been nothing but kind to me since I've come. Kind to me, kind to_ _Éponine, and kind to Cosette. Perhaps he is not such a wretched man. Perhaps he's changed._

Azelma shook her head. _No! It cannot be!_

_He_ set the table for breakfast as he said, "Have you looked out the window this morning, my children?"

"Oh! No, no I haven't," Éponine piped up. "Shall we look?"

"Yes, yes," _he_ said, waving a hand. "Go on and look."

Éponine and Cosette hurried over to the window, clambering over each other, ripping the frayed curtains open. "Oh!"

Azelma craned her neck to look, and she saw it: the little snow that January brought had melted significantly, but now, it had truly come: thick and white and crisp and inviting.

"We'll miss our lessons today," the…the _monsieur_ said kindly. "Why don't you girls play in the snow?"

"Can you play in the snow?" was Cosette's innocent reply. "I thought it merely something unpleasant and cold, spawn of the Devil himself!"

_The _monsieur. _I…well, I suppose it will have to do. What else can I possibly call him besides Papa? And I shall never call him _that.

"Oh, but playing in the snow is such fun, Cosette," Éponine said excitedly. "There are many, many, games to play! Come, Cosette, let's fetch our coats! Azelma, my dearest sister, you must come too!"

Azelma nodded. Perhaps playing in the snow could rid her of unhappy thoughts. "Yes!"

There was a stampede as she battled Éponine and Cosette to reach the door. The girls yanked on their warm coats, their hats, gloves, and scarves. Stepped into their warm boots.

In a flurry of shuffling feet and giggles, the threesome found their place outside, in the garden. Azelma raised her chin towards the surprisingly clear blue sky and allowed herself a small luxury:

She laughed.

* * *

**Éponine**

**COSETTE STOOD UNCERTAINLY** in the snow, wiggling her fingers in her gloves. Éponine bent to gather snow, watching her sister carefully.

What might be the best way to introduce Cosette to the true joys of playing in the snow? Striking her with a snowball shall only frighten her. A snowman will do nicely, I believe.

Éponine began to pack snow, all concentration drawn on the basic task. She peered over her shoulder to see that Cosette had taken a seat in the snow, knees drawn to her chest. Azelma, too, was hunched over, working on something. Quite suddenly, the ginger girl spun, boasting a small snowball.

Éponine rose uncertainly.

Azelma bet down next to Cosette. "Cosette," she trilled, "behold: the snowball."

Azelma stood, but Cosette remained seated, gazing up at Azelma with wide blue eyes. "Whatever is it?"

Éponine knew just what her sister was planning, and she opened her mouth to scold her, but to no avail. It was too late. Azelma sent her snowball flying. It hit Cosette in the stomach.

The blonde looked down at the spray of snow that her coat bore. Back up at Azelma. Her thin little face began to crumple like a rose in winter. "Whatever was _that_ for?"

"A snowball!" sang Azelma. She doubled over, giggling in her delight.

"Azelma!" snapped Éponine. "You've hurt her!"

Cosette's lower lip was beginning to tremble, her eyes watering. She let out a whimper and Éponine moved to comfort her sister.

And then, Cosette reached behind her to reveal her own snowball. It was awkward, poorly shaped, but a snowball all the same. It went flying, hit Azelma on the cheek.

"Why…you…" sputtered Azelma. She shook her head. "Cosette!"

The crying – little – girl façade was gone, replaced by Cosette, doubled over in her own giggles, clutching her stomach with one hand, supporting herself on the snow with the other. "I…" she gasped between laughs, "Why…you…I truly fooled you, did I not?"

This was greeted by a snowball to her arm, but Cosette shook it off and stood. "I fooled you and you know it, Azelma Fauchelevent!"

Éponine found herself powerless now: she made her own snowball, thick and round and cleverly packed, and launched it at Azelma.

The hour or so proved to involve a great deal of yelling and laughing and sputtering and cries of "_Arête, arête!" _on the parts of the sisters. Éponine taught Cosette how to make a proper snowball and soon came to regret her decision. Cosette took advantage of her newfound knowledge and Éponine took many a nasty strike to the face.

When the children had collapsed onto the snow, breathing heavily, Éponine turned towards the house. Papa stood in the doorway, a smile on his kind face.

"Papa!" she cried. "Papa, do come and play with us! We're to make a lovely snow family and snow angels! And Papa, perhaps we'll find a fresh patch of ice to slide upon!"

Papa called, "_Mes filles_, I am afraid I won't be joining you. These old bones won't allow it, I'm afraid."

Éponine giggled, still overly excited. "Yes, Papa. Very well, Papa."

The girls took to making a snow family and snow angels, and when their noses were red as cherries, Papa ushered them inside, where they sat by the fire and sipped warm milk.

"I shall be going out for a short while tomorrow, _mes trésors. _There is some shopping I must attend to. You must stay here, and not answer the door to a soul. You may not play in the garden; if a stranger were to come by in search of little children to snatch up, and saw the three of you, he would not hesitate."

Éponine looked skeptically at her Papa. "But why are you telling us this now? Why ever not in the morning?"

Papa planted a small kiss on the crown of her head. "Because, my dear, I shall be leaving very early. You won't miss me for very long."

Éponine nodded, satisfied for a moment, until another thought crossed her mind. "Papa," she went on, "you haven't any work to do. Surely, you'll need to find a job so as to make a living?" She looked anxiously up at him.

Papa shook his head. "Finding work is not an issue for me at the moment, my dearest 'Ponine. Papa has a great deal of money. Though if it concerns you, I may find myself a small job as a gardener in the Jardin du Luxembourg for a low wage. I truly _did_ enjoy my days as gardener in the convent."

"Yes, Papa," Cosette agreed. "That sounds lovely, but you have not told us why we left the convent so suddenly. I quite liked it there. But," she added hastily, "I _do_ quite enjoy the life we lead here."

Éponine raised an eyebrow at her sister's words, but soon, she found herself curled up on the edge of the bed with Cosette, Papa in his chair, as he read from a new book, this one a lovely translation of Grimm's Fairy Tales.

As usual, Azelma had dismissed herself and hurried off to play with her doll.

"What tale shall we read today?" Papa asked them.

"It's my turn to decide," Éponine saw it fit to remind him. She leaned over and skimmed the List of Chapters. A certain title caught her eye: _Hansel and Gretel._

"Oh, read this one, Papa!" she pleaded, pointing to it. She was not sure what the title meant, but she supposed that Hansel and Gretel were names. Perhaps it was a love story!

Papa laughed when he saw what she had chosen. He turned to the respective page and began to read.

Cosette and Éponine clutched each other as they were told the delightfully frightening story of the children Hansel and Gretel, the terrible witch, and what became of her.

After another glass of hot milk, and a nice washing, Cosette and Éponine let Papa tuck them in. Azelma, Éponine noted with irritation, refused to let Papa tuck _her _in.

Once the candle was blown out, the curtains drawn, the girls were left in darkness.

"Papa is leaving tomorrow," Éponine whispered to her sisters.

"Not for terribly long, he said," Cosette's voice came back to her.

"Cosette, Azelma." Éponine wrung her hands in excitement. "I've a proposal."

"Name it." Azelma's voice.

"Tomorrow, we shall go out on our own and explore. While Papa is away."

* * *

**Glossary of Used French Words**

_Arête, arête! …_stop it, stop it!

_Mes filles_…my girls

_Mes trésors_…my treasures


	9. Chapter 9: On Their Own

Chapter 09…On Their Own

* * *

**February 1824**

**Paris**

* * *

**Cosette**

**SHE WOKE EARLY**, before Éponine and Azelma. Her sisters were curled up, snug under their covers. Cosette yawned and climbed out of bed, rubbing her eyes, brushing blond hair from her face.

She wandered around their home, but Papa was gone, it would seem. She peered into the kitchen. Papa had left a lovely plate of food on the table for her, Éponine, and Azelma. A note lay by the dish. Cosette picked it up, but while Papa's scrawl was neat and tidy, she couldn't read it.

A sly sort of smile lit the corners of her mouth as Cosette rushed back into her bedroom. "Éponine! Éponine! Wake up!" She shook her sister's shoulder with every word.

Her sister groaned, blearily rolled over. "What? Whatever do you want, Cosette?"

Cosette sighed gave her sister another shake. " 'Ponine! Papa has left! Did you not say that you wanted to explore Paris?"

"Ah!" Éponine sat bolt upright. "Yes, of course."

Cosette handed her the note. "He's left us a note."

Éponine climbed out of bed and took it in her little hand. "Shall I read it?"

"Yes."

Éponine straightened the skirt of her flannel nightdress. Read aloud:

"_My dearest Cosette, Éponine, and Azelma, _

_I do hope you will be quite all right whilst I am gone. I promise I shan't be back later than three o'clock._

_ Meanwhile, I have left you a lovely breakfast in the kitchen, as you've seen, and you are to play inside the house only. You are also dismissed from your studies, as I am sure this will make you all feel very happy._

_ Upon my return, I will read to you from Grimm's Fairy Tales. You may choose a story for me to read ahead of time, but remember, it is Cosette's turn to choose our tale today._

_With love, _

_Your Papa._"

Éponine looked up excitedly. "Excellent! Cosette, get dressed and eat your breakfast while I wake our lazy little 'Zelma."

Cosette laughed and took a dress from the armoire. Ducking behind the small curtain that hung there, she took a moment to admire it. Even now, when it had been over a month living with Papa, the luxurious gowns he'd gotten her, and her sisters, took her breath away. For instance, this one was of a soft ivory with a rose pattern at the hem, collar, and cuffs. The cuffs, too, were lined with soft fine white lace. And the petticoat she wore was of a soft pink satin.

Cosette was careful to comb her hair neatly, and to curl her stocking slightly at the shin. She meandered into the kitchen.

The breakfast Papa had left them was delicious, and filled her belly quite nicely. As soon as she and Éponine managed to coax a bleary Azelma into dressing, they were on their way.

Outside, the snow was just as crisp and white as it had been yesterday. Cosette was tempted to bend down, gather the snow in her hand, and make a snowball to help Azelma wake up, but she, Éponine, and Azelma, had a great city to explore.

The snow _crunch_ed under their boots, and the streets were bustling in ways none of the girls had seen in Montfermeil. Vendors sold dresses, shoes, scarves, bonnets. A young man waved a doll temptingly in their faces, one almost as lovely as Cosette's own Fantine.

"Where shall we go first?" asked Azelma, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Cosette found she wondered this, too.

"To the Jardin du Luxembourg," Éponine stated decidedly. She tucked a lock of her black hair behind one ear. "I don't believe I quite know where it is, but if we ask someone, I'm sure they'll help us."

"But whom shall we ask?" Cosette insisted, craning her neck to examine the bustling street.

"Follow my lead," Éponine ordered. She took Cosette's hand in hers, Azelma's in the other, and took off down the street. She yanked Cosette and Azelma up to an old man selling bread.

"_Bonjour, petites filles_," the vendor greeted them, breaking into a smiling that revealed several missing teeth. Those that remained were chipped and yellowed. "Some bread for you, perhaps? Has your Maman sent you?"

"Oh, we've already eaten," Éponine began, eyeing the loaves hungrily. "We were only asking of you: might you know the way to the Jardin du Luxembourg?"

The old man frowned, rubbed his chin. "The Jardin du Luxembourg, you say? Well, let's see. It isn't terribly far from here, children. Now…I do believe it's just two blocks from here. Head that way - " he pointed. "And turn left. There, you will come across a great gate leading into the garden."

Éponine, as the little leader she was, chirped her thank-you, and Cosette and Azelma hurried to echo her. The trio followed the old man's directions, and found themselves at the aforementioned gate. They looked as forbiddingly inviting as the apple in the Garden of Eden.

_I hope we'll be back in time for Papa, else I fear what he'll do to us. Will he beat me as the Thenardiers once did?_

Something caught Cosette's eye just beyond the gates; a great mound of snow. Trailing down one end was a slide of ice, and it dropped into yet another soft pile of that brilliant white snow. Groups of children braved the climb, and they were rewarded by a thrilling slide into a cushion of white.

"Oh, 'Ponine, let's!" Cosette tugged at her new sister's arm and pointed.

At the sight of the snow, Éponine broke into a great dimpled smile. "Let's, indeed," she murmured. She took off ahead of Cosette and Azelma, leaving them hurrying behind her, tripping over their own feet in their giddy rush.

Of course, it was bold, adventurous 'Ponine who began her ascent first. She easily reached the top of the great mound, and with a cry of glee, skidded down to the bottom.

Not wanting to miss the fun, Cosette made sure she was the very next to go down. It was a difficult climb, and the small blonde found that her boot would often become caught in a hole and she'd have to pull it out. Other times, she'd slip. She might have given up by now, had it not been for Éponine, who had proved that she could enjoy herself.

After a while, she reached the top and stared down. It seemed a long, long, way to go, and she shuddered a bit. Perhaps…a glance behind her revealed that Azelma had already begun to climb, and surely wouldn't move aside for Cosette.

With a deep breath, Cosette lay flat on her stomach and pushed herself down.

She whizzed down the ice, and everything around her was a mere blur. Cosette shrieked, but that cry soon morphed into one of giddy delight, such was her joy. She cried out in her happiness as she picked up speed. Was the snow pile coming? She wouldn't know; everything was moving much too quickly.

All her giddy thoughts were replaced, suddenly, by a gentle landing on the snow pile. Cosette giggled as she raised her head, removed her hat, and shook the snow out of it. Suddenly, a very heavy weight landed on top if her: Azelma.

Both girls yelped in surprise, but again, the joy of playing on such a great slope was to them like wine is to an alcoholic: addictive.

* * *

**Azelma**

**AZELMA RAISED HER **head as a boy shouted from the top of the mountain: "Out of my way, you silly girls! I'm coming down, you know!"

"Come on down, then," Azelma taunted him, as Cosette hurriedly scuttled out of harm's way.

The boy puffed out his chest and cried, "And anyhow, you shouldn't be here. Don't you know that this is a place for boys, not girls? Ye gods!"

Azelma stood, shaking the snow from her auburn ringlets. "Oh? Well, I shouldn't care. I'll play here if I like! And I won't move, either, especially for the likes of you!"

The boy scowled at her. He was too far up for Azelma to get a good view of him, but there was no mistaking a scowl on that proud, arrogant little face of his. He slid down quicker than Azelma had, and in seconds, he was on top of her.

Now that he was quite close up, she could see he was a few years older than her, about eleven, with blond hair in a small ponytail and blue eyes. He wore a very expensive-looking coat and hat, and now she could see the small gold chain he wore.

With a disdainful sniff, he climbed off her, shooting a look over his shoulder as he disappeared with a young, pretty woman who must be his mother.

Azelma's heart sank. His mother. She wanted her own Maman. Her own kind, loving, doting, Maman. Whom the monsieur (Valjean, she believed the inspector had told her), had taken her away from.

She climbed off the snow pile to begin her ascent anew, as Éponine and Cosette had, but something else caught her eye. Or, more accurately, some_one._

It was an Inspector, but not any Inspector. She was sure this was the one who'd told her everything that Christmas Eve outside the walls of the convent.

Azelma meandered over to the Inspector. He looked up when he saw her, his eyes widened in surprise before he inclined his head towards her.

"_Mademoiselle_ Azelma, is it not?" he asked of her.

Azelma glanced over her shoulder. Éponine and Cosette were attempting to climb the ice mountain together, holding hands. They shrieked in delight as they fell each time. Quickly, the seven-year-old turned her attention back to the Inspector.

"Yes, Inspector, _monsieur_."

He nodded. "Yes. I was on my patrol, and I came across you, my child. Fate, I am sure, is in my favor, and I have pleased the Lord. Now, have you any information?"

Azelma opened her mouth, only to find she'd lost her voice.

The Inspector looked at her disapprovingly. "You shall be rewarded, my child." He reached into his breast pocket and removed a single gold Louis coin. He pressed it into Azelma's palm. "Are you here with the man?"

"No."

"Your sisters, then?"

"Yes, Inspector, _monsieur._"

The Inspector nodded. "Very well. You are to tell your sisters you found the coin on the floor. Now, tell me: where are you residing at the moment? I will come tonight."

Azelma looked at the coin in her hand, back at the Inspector. Over her shoulder again. To her dismay, she saw Éponine approaching her.

_Perhaps I should lie…_

_No, he's a criminal!_

_And yet…_

Azelma would never know what would motivate her to lie just then, but something, something great and unknown, made her do so.

"Number eighteen - " she began.

"Azelma!"

It was Éponine. She was hurrying up to her sister, skirts lifted. "Azelma, what are you doing?"

Azelma thought quickly. "Speaking to this very kind Inspector. He dropped this coin - " she held out the gold Louis " – and I went to give it to him."

"Then do so."

Azelma shook her head. "He told me to keep it. Would you believe it, 'Ponine?"

Éponine shook her head. "Ye gods! Thank – "

But Inspector Javert had left, and if Azelma looked hard, she thought she could see him fading into a small dot in the distance, going along one of the long paths of the Luxembourg Garden.

"He's left, I see," Éponine murmured.

"Yes," said Azelma, "he has."

_And, while I've no idea why, I do hope I never see him again._


	10. Chapter 10: Returning Home

Chapter 10…Returning Home

* * *

_**Author Note: Oh, God, I'm SO sorry for not having updated sooner!**_

* * *

**February 1824**

**Paris**

* * *

**Cosette**

**"A GOLD LOUIS **coin…" Cosette breathed, once Éponine and Azelma brought her the news. In her small hand, she took the little golden treasure.

_How could something so small be so valuable? Is it really worht so much more than a single _sou_? If I had to choose between this coin and having Maman, I would take Maman. _

"How thrilling!" Éponine singsonged, snatching it in her own hand quickly. "Come, my sisters, let's away." She closed her hand round the coin and took off across the pavement, her boots leaving deep prints in the white snow, a mark of her presence soon to be swallowed by other footsteps, leaving her lost in a world of other lives that are nearly unknown on this earth.

"Wait for us, would you!" called Azelma. "Come, Cosette."

Cosette took off after her sisters, her new sisters.

"Where shall we go now?" asked Azelma. Suddenly, she answered her own question: "Oh! There!" She pointed at a shop down the street.

Cosette followed Azelma's finger to see a small shop at the corner. Pink and white awning advertised it as a _pattiserie._

"Yes, let's. 'Ponine, look there!" The girls walked up to it. Delicious desserts and chocolates taunted them from behind the glass, calling their names.

"We'll each buy something," Éponine announced. "I'm sure a gold Louis coin shall be enough for three."

The bell at the door announced their presence, and the shopkeeper, a young man with slick black hair, raised his head. His eye widened in surprise at the sight of three children entering his shop alone, but he smiled at them and beckoned them in.

"Come, children. We've some lovely sweets and cakes."

"I'd like that one," Éponine declared, pointing to a small lemon tart. "Please," she added hastily.

Azelma ordered the same thing, but the choice was not so easy for Cosette. She'd never had something quite so luxurious. The treats Papa brought home were lovely and delicious, but nothing in comparison to this.

How was she to choose?

Her eyes skirted over various fruity cakes, squares of fudge, slices of pie. Eventually she found what she seeked: a small chocolat_ petit four. _

"That, please, _m'sieur_," she said politely. The vendor gathered all their treats in a small paper bag, wrapping each one individually. Éponine paid, and was given a handful of coins in exchange.

The children chorused their _thank you_s and hurried out the shop, greeted by the bitter chill of February wind.

"Where shall we eat them?" Azelma mused, wrapping her arms around herself. "We can't very well take them home and eat them in front of Va – the _monsieur_."

Éponine frowned. "You're right. We'll have to sit on a bench in the garden, then." She started to move purposefully forward, braving the chill. "I'm sure there are some nice benches in the park."

"But it's cold!" Azelma whined, trotting after her.

Cosette silently agreed with Azelma. The frigid air reminded her of her miserable days in Montfermeil, all those times she went out in the snow without shoes or a shawl. So much had changed since Papa had come. Everything changes, in its time.

And yet, what would the world be in sameness? For some, changes would be good, like the one that had entered Cosette's life.

The three girls gathered on a stone bench, huddled together for the cold: while their jackets were lovely and warm, the February air passed through the fabric. Seeped into their bones.

Cosette took her small truffle in her hands and turned it round and round, almost fascinated by it. She didn't quite want to eat it, but marvel at the fact that she might have one.

Meanwhile, Éponine and Azelma dug into their desserts with greedy little smiles, their tarts disappearing in mere instants. Cosette took her first bite as Éponine and Azelma took their last.

And it was like heaven on her tongue. The chocolate sang with sweet flavour, and melted on her tongue. Cosette closed her eyes slightly. Another bite, the same heaven.

As she finished off the last of her treat, Cosette glanced over her shoulder to see a long, tall shadow. She shatrted a bit – could it be Madame Thenardier?

But when she looked again, there was nothing there.

She couldn't see the Inspector hiding behind a tree.

* * *

**Éponine**

**"WHERE SHALL WE **go now?" Éponine asked, as they began to walk through the park.

"To the lovely swing we played by the very first day we came here," Cosette said without missing a beat. She was craning her neck as if already in search of it.

Éponine agreed: she and Cosette had had such fun that day. The girls wandered the Jardin du Luxembourg for a while until Cosette promptly cried and pointed:

"It's just there!"

Éponine raised her head, following the direction of the finger. Saw the swing there. "Yes, that's it!"

She and Cosette raced ahead, with Azelma close behind. Éponine and Cosette took seats next to eachother and each gripped a chain. Azelma climbed on, dividing her weight between Cosette and Éponine.

The sweetest waves of laughs, coming from a trio of three sweet little girls. "Azelma, sit on Cosette's lap," Éponine ordered her sister.

A surprised Azelma crawled off, as the swing continued moving.

Éponine bit her lip, before launching herself off. She was soaring throuh the air, merciful heavens, this must be what it is to fly. She laughed, that sweet wave of a sound. The snow cushioned her landing, as she landed on her knees.

I don't want my life to ever change from what it is now. I love my Papa, and I've a new sister. What joy!

The sisters spent some time on the swing, before Azelma suggested they go window shopping. The girls walked down the Parisian roads, going this way and that, oohing and ahhing over extravagant gowns and, oh, the parasols!

But only an hour or so later, the sisters found themselves meandering the streets of Paris aimlessly. Papa was due to return home not long from now.

Cosette was crying. Azelma trailed miserably behind, and the normal pride that shone in Éponine's dark eyes had become dull.

A trio of children, three _misérables_, walking down a Parisian road. The children happened by a café.

"Perhaps we ought to ask for directions there," Cosette said meekly, pointing. She squinted, trying to read the roughly-painted sign. "Café… Café…Mi…Mu…Mah…Oh, I can't read it. What does it say, 'Ponine?"

Éponine frowned, examining the sign above the small coffee shop. "Musain, I believe," she said slowly.

"Musain," echoed Cosette. "We should ask."

Before they could, however, the door swung open and a boy hopped out. He wasn't too much older than Éponine's own age of eight. He looked to be about thirteen or so. His curly blond hair caught in the light as he began to stride down the street.

The boy happened to glance over his shoulder to see three young girls, standing outside the Musain, huddled together uncertainly. Watching him.

* * *

**Unnamed Boy**

**THEY WERE NOTHING** more than small children, at least five years younger than himself. They weren't poor, that much the boy knew for sure. The children all wore expensive coats and hats, but they looked so unhappy he paused.

The oldest couldn't have been more than nine. Long, black hair peeked out from under a warm knit hat, and her dark eyes were fixed on him with steely determination surprising for such a young age.

The middle girl seemed to be the same age, but she was much smaller and frightfully thin. He easily could have wrapped his hand around the little wrist there. This child was a blonde, with blue eyes so full of worry his heart could have shattered.

The youngest of the three leaned against the wall and sulked, arms crossed over a little chest and auburn ringlets flecked in snow.

Hesitantly, the boy approached them. "Hello."

The dark-haired girl looked up. "Oh. Hello."

The boy paused. "Are you lost? Do you need help?"

It was the ginger who raised her head. "Yes, we're lost. Will you help us find our way?"

The boy nodded. "I know the Parisian streets very well. Where are you going?"

The brunette spoke again. "Rue Plumet. We're at number 55."

A whistle escaped the boy. "Rue Plumet? That's quite far from here. If you'll want to get home quickly, you'd best follow me."

The blonde looked up at him with wide, alarmingly bright blue eyes. "You…you'll take us home?"

"I shall, indeed." The boy bent down to her level and laid a hand on the tiny shoulder there. _Why is she so thin, when her sisters are much better-fed? _"What is your name, my girl?"

A blink. "Cosette."

"Cosette? How lovely. And you, _mademoiselle_?" Now the boy addressed the brunette who'd spoken first.

"Éponine. And that's Azelma. She is my other sister."

"You're all sisters?"

Cosette nodded. "Yes. The three of us. 'Ponine and I are eight, and Azelma is seven. But I beseech you, _monsieur_, my sisters and I must be getting home very soon before our Papa arrives. He told us we weren't to go out, and we've disobeyed him."

The boy tutted her gently. "You must obey your father, _mes filles_. But I'll take you home, save he arrive before you do and scold you. Now, follow me."

The boy led his charge through the twisted streets of Paris, always just a step in front of them. The cobblestones were slick with ice and snow that had long since gone brown. It was odd to think of the snow, something once so pure and beautiful, could become this over time, after being trodden on and used, this brown slag. In a sense, the snow was just like the human soul.

The girls trotted behind the boy, their pretty eyes wide with relief and anxiousness. Before terribly long, they reached Rue Plumet.

"Number 55?" he asked them, taking in the house before him.

Cosette nodded. "Yes. Thank you, _monsieur_."

The boy smiled. "'Twas my pleasure."

A gasp came from little Azelma, the ginger one. "Dear God! He's just down the street! Look, there he is now."

The boy followed her gaze to see a middle-aged gentleman, chatting with a baker's at the corner.

"Now what shall we do?" asked tiny Cosette, bouncing from foot to foot in her anxiety. "Do you suppose he'll scold us? I've not disobeyed him before."

The boy looked at the gentleman, the father of these children, seemed deep in conversation. He glanced at the children again. "I've an idea," he declared.

He took the hands of Azelma and Cosette, with Éponine close behind. "That house there. That's number 55, isn't it?" He pointed.

Éponine nodded slowly. "Yes…"

"Well. Your father may see you if you go out front, but he won't if you slip in through the gates." One by one the boy helped the girls squeeze through the iron-wrought bars.

It was Éponine who spoke to him first. "Oh, thank you, _m'sieur_."

The boy bowed playfully. "It was my pleasure, _petites_." He turned to go.

"_Monsieur_, wait!" Cosette's voice called to him. The boy stopped and looked over his shoulder.

"Yes?"

Cosette looked up at him. "Here." She held out her little palm, where several coins glittered.

The boy shook his head and closed her fingers round the money. "No, no. You keep it."

Cosette frowned, but she did not argue. Instead she asked of him, "What's your name?"

_I haven't given them my name? I thought I did. Ah, well._

"Enjolras," the boy said, before walking away.


	11. Chapter 11: Five Hundred Years

Chapter 11…Five Hundred Years

* * *

_**WARNING: the following chapter contains father-daughter fluff so sweet, you may want to visit the dentist after reading; it'll rot your teeth…**_

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**February 1824**

**Paris**

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**Valjean**

**IMAGINE VALJEAN'S SURPRISE **when he turned and began to stride down Rue Plumet, only to see Cosette and Éponine, reaching their arms out through the gate and calling out to him, "Papa! Papa!"

Valjean took several quick strides towards his daughters. "Cosette! Éponine! Whatever are you doing? I did tell you not to play in the garden." He opened the gate as he spoke, and the girls scuttled out of the way.

"We've not set foot in the garden until now, Papa," explained Éponine. "But I happened t glance out the window, and saw you speaking to the baker. So Cosette and I put on our coats and rushed out to greet you!" She beamed up at him while Cosette shuffled on her feet nervously.

Valjean led his daughters in the house. He was almost certain something was not quite right. For one thing, the house wasn't as warm as it should be; the fire had not been lit. All of his daughters knew how to light the fire and did so often.

When he entered the living room, however, he saw Azelma, hunched over the hearth. Alas, a roaring fire burned cheerily away. Azelma sat in her dress, rocking her doll in her arms and singing to it softly. She raised her head as Valjean went in, but she didn't acknowledge him.

They must have just lit the fire, then. Its warmth hasn't had enough time to reach the other rooms.

Cosette and Éponine both took off their winter attire and hung it up, pecked him on the cheek, and hurried to join Azelma. Their own Lily and Fantine sat on the chairs, waiting.

Valjean shook his head and entered the little kitchen. The food he'd left had been eaten but, to his surprise, the dish lay dirty on the table. Normally, Cosette did all the washing – both of laundry and kitchen accessories - without thinking twice. An unfortunate habit from her days in Montfermeil as the drudge.

"Oh, 'Ponine," he addressed the little brunette. She raise her head.

"Papa?"

"I inquired of that work you were so keen on my getting," he began.

"Oh, did you, Papa? How lovely. They've accepted you, I'm sure? How could they not?" Éponine asked eagerly. She stood and cocked her head.

Valjean shook his head. "I'm afraid they seek the young to do the garden work. However, I've begun a volunteer position at the church, giving out bread to the hungry children. It won't bring money, but that is not something to worry about." He smiled at her reassuringly.

Éponine frowned, but nodded. "Yes, Papa." She smiled and sat down again, cronning softly to Lily by the fire's warmth.

* * *

_One month later…_

**March 1824**

**Paris**

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**Valjean**

**THE CHILDREN WERE **to begin studying subtraction today. Valjean glanced towards their shut bedroom door, where the three of them still slumbered. He'd tried to waken them an hour ago, only to be answered with whines of complaint. Normally, Valjean would chastise them for such behavior, but he was a bit worn out himself, so he'd decided to let them wake up on their own time.

To pass the time, Valjean set up the girls' slates for them at the table, served breakfast, read, and paced. He shook his head and glanced at the mantle clock. It was already ten o'clock!

He knocked on the bedroom door, only to hear Éponine shout, "We're still sleeping!"

Valjean chuckled to himself and backed away. There were times when he would have to sit back and let the children make their own decisions, even if those decisions were simply the best time to crawl out of bed.

He opened the windows to let some light in; the worst of March had passed, and spring was already singing its sweet song. The sunlight streamed in and danced on his face, almost calling to him.

Valjean leaned his elbows against the frame. _It is far too fine a day to keep the girls shut up inside…But what will they do?_

It was when a pigeon fluttered by the window that it struck him like an anvil. Pigeons. The Notre Dame. There were always pigeons outside the grand cathedral, pigeons to feed.

With a new vigour that made Valjean feel like a giddy child once more. He rapped on the door and called to his daughters, "I'm opening the door, _mes filles_, so if you are not presentable, tell me now!"

He waited. No answer. He whipped open the door to see all three girls, fully dressed, sitting on the floor playing tea party. Azelma, predictably, stared at her doll, but both Cosette and Éponine raised their heads and chirped, "Good morning, Papa!"

Valjean bent. "We'll not be doing our studies today. Today, after eating, I shall take you on an outing."

Azelma's ginger head slowly rose.

"Where are we going, Papa?" In one sweeping movement, Cosette set down her teacup and stood. Those wide blue eyes watched him expectantly.

"We are going to a beautiful cathedral, which is called the Notre Dame, where we shall feed the pigeons and eat a lunch. We'll have a fine day."

At once, Éponine and Cosette hurried to his side. "Oh, yes, Papa!"

Azelma rose more slowly, in that funny way of hers. Azelma was like a puzzle Valjean feared her would never work out. No matter what he did or said, she seldom spoke to him, and certainly never rushed to his side seeking a kiss.

The little family ate breakfast together, though Azelma may as well have not veen there for here coldness.

March 1824 was a warm one, and the children did not need to wear their jackets, only their shawls. Both Éponine and Azelma put on their finest bonnets, but Cosette firmly set the little green cap on her head.

It was her bonnet from Montfermeil, a worn and threadbare thing. Cosettte's rag dress was now used for scrubbing, but the cap had been nowhere to be found, and Valjean had not bothered with it. Now he saw Cosette had saved it all this time.

And Cosette, he saw, also put on the plaid shawl he'd bought her that Christmas Eve. She rocked Fantine in her arms as she waited for her sisters, not fussing. Cosette was such a quiet, meek little girl most of the time.

In the end, all of his daughters took their dolls, and Valjean allowed them to. Cosette and Éponine each took one of Valjean's hands, and Azelma took that of Cosette.

As they made their way to the grand cathedral, Valjean informed his children, "you know, _mes chéries,_ the Notre Dame is very old."

It was Éponine who looked up at him with keen fascination. "How old, Papa? Older than Cosette and myself?"

Valjean chuckled. "Yes, 'Ponine, it is much older than you and Cosette."

"Is it older than you?" Éponine asked, trotting to keep up with his quick strides.

"Oh, yes, much older than me."

"Is it older than a hundred years?"

"Quite a bit older."

"A hundred and fifty, then?" Éponine inquired, her dark eyes growing wide.

"Much, much, older," Valjean answered the brunette honestly.

Her number mounted and mounted by fifties until Éponine demanded, "Papa? Older than…four hundred and one?"

Valjean stumbled, not liking where this was going. "Oh, yes."

"Four hundred and two, Papa? Is the Notre Dame older than four hundred and two?"

"Much."

"Is it older than four hundred and three?"

"Much older…" Valjean sighed. He glanced at Cosette and Azelma, but neither seemed fazed by Éponine's behavior.

"Is it older than – " Éponine began.

Valjean spun on her, growled, "The Notre Dame is six hundred and sixty-one years old!"

Éponine fell silent and clutched Lily tighter to her chest. "Oh. That is very old."

Valjean felt a bit guilty now for losing his temper; he gave her hand a gentle squueze and agreed softly, "Yes, it is."

"Papa?" Now Cosette's innocent voice rang out as she watched him with those piercing blue eyes of hers. "Papa, how old are _you_?"

"Old," Valjean stated flatly.

Cosette cocked her head, trotting next to him. "As old as the Notre Dame?"

Valjean let out a choking laugh. "No, _mon enfant_. Not nearly as old as the Notre Dame." He feared she may burst into a torrent of questions, like her sister before her, but Cosette smiled and nodded, satisfied with his answer. Valjean let out a little sigh of relief.

But then: "Papa, what is your true name? Not your fake one, Fauchelevent, but your true one."

Valjean froze. "Madeleine," he answered softly.

"I see," murmured Cosette.

The foursome walked on in silence for a little while until Valjean caught sight of the great cathedral. He rounded the corner and said to his girls, "Here we are. Here is the Notre Dame."

The hands of both Cosette and Éponine slipped from his, and their mouths dropped at the sight of the building. Azelma has let go of Cosette's hand, and now stood, entranced, as she stared at the grand catherdal before her.

Valjean pulled a large baguette from his coat. He had bought it several days ago, but it hadn't been eaten and had since gone stale. He handed it to his girls. "Here," he said to them, "Here's some of that baguette we never ate. You may feed it all to the pigeons, but don't give them very large chunks or they'll choke."

"Yes, Papa,"Cosette said agreeably, taking the bread from him. "Come, Éponine, Azelma."

Valjean sat back on a bench to watch the children as they carefully tore the bread into the tiniest of pieces, divided it between them.

Before long, a large flock of pigeons had gathered round the children. The girls tucked their dolls under one arm, fed the pigeons with their free hands. A ghost of a smile found its place of Valjean's lips.

He sat there for quite a while, watching as his daughters laughed and cooed to the pigeons, as the birds ate from their hands.

"Are they yours?"

Valjean raised his head and tensed to see a street artist, with paper and charcoal in hand.. Straw-colored hair that didn't lie flat on his head.

"The children," the street artist explained, indicating the girls. "Are the yours?"

"Oh – " Valjean started " – yes, they are."

"They're very lovely."

"Thank you."

The street artist leaned forward and nodded at the girls. "Would you like me to draw them? It'll cost four Francs."

Valjean was inclined to protest – while he had the money, four Francs was a high price – but then he saw the state of the boy. How thin he was, and how worn his clothes were, especially his threadbare blue jacket. And he was quite young too, not more than sixteen. Valjean smiled politely.

"I'll pay you five – yes, please."

The boy's eyes widened, and he nodded. "Thank you, _monsieur_." He took his charcoal and brought the canvas to life in only fifteen minutes. Valjean paid him the five Francs and the boy thanked him profusely, handing his a quite impressive charcoal sketch.

"I'll put it up in the foyer," Valjean murmured to himself. He raised his head to look at his daughters.

Suddenly, Azelma stood, letting the crumbs fall from her hand onto the cobblestones beneath her feet. She kicked out one foot that sent the poor pigeons flapping madly for safety.

It was so good to see the child that happy, that animated.

Éponine mimicked her sister, kicking at and chasing the poor pigeons about. Cosette seemed uncomfortable doing this, but her sisters had chased all her pigeons away so she went to sit by Papa.

It was well past noon by the time the family returned home. Valjean pinned the sketch up in the foyer, by the door, and all the children were enraptured by it. But Azelma had already retreated inside herself, into the shell she hid inside.

A short supper and Valjean put the girls to bed. He extinguished their candles and shut the door, but a soft singing gave his cause to wait there. It was Cosette's voice.

"_There is a lady all in white_

_Holds me and sings a lullaby_

_She's nice to see and she's soft to touch_

_She says, 'Cosette, I love you very much.'_ "

"Cosette?" Azelma's voice. "Is the lady all in white your Maman?"

A pause before Cosette answered, "Yes, it is."

Something clawed at Valjean's heart. Grief. Remorse. Guilt.

And then Azelma said something possibly even more heartbreaking: "I'd like to have my Maman back. And my Papa, my true Papa."

Valjean closed his eyes and took a step back. He only listened as Azelma began to cry softly. A rustling sound, and then Cosette was comforting her.

"I've lost my Maman, too. But we have our Papa."

Azelma's choking little voice responded: "he is _not_ my Papa, and he shan't ever be! He hasn't even told us his real name!"

"Yes, he did, Azelma," Cosette reminded her. "It's Madeleine, remember?"

"I'm sure it's a fake one! I'm sure that isn't his real name!"


	12. Chapter 12: The Room Full Of Toys

Chapter 12…The Room Full of Toys

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_There is a room that's full of toys_

_There are a hundred boys and girls_

_Nobody shouts or talks too loud_

_Not in my castle on a cloud._

~from _Castle on a Cloud_, young Cosette

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**April 1824**

**Paris**

**Azelma**

**WITH APRIL CAME** the rain, a merciless _pitter-pat_ on the window panes. Azelma found herself shut up inside with _him_. She never spoke to him, except to answer one of his questions. It sickened her to see Cosette and Éponine – Éponine, of all people – fawning over him and giggling.

_Oh, 'Ponine, it was not terribly long ago you sat upon our true Papa's lap. _

Azelma sat alone in the bedroom she shared with her sisters, cross-legged. Outside, Cosette and Éponine's giddy cries pouring through the door, open ajar. Azelma picked up her doll Neige and began to rock her gently. She found herself singing that song of Cosette's, the castle song. It was oddly comforting, and she almost understood why the Lark had sung it for so long.

"_She says, 'Zelma, I love you very much,_" Azelma sang. She looked around the room, set down her doll. Slowly, she got to her feet and peered out the crack between the door and its frame.

The _monsieur_ was taking Cosette and spinning her round and round in circles. He set the blonde down and gave a faint chuckle. "You're my good girls," he told them. "You're my good girls."

Azelma clenched her fists. _Am I not a good girl? Oh, Maman…Papa…please. I miss you. _

"You've no idea the mischief I got into when I was your age, _mes filles_," Papa said with a grin.

At once, Cosette and Éponine hurried to sit on his knee once more. "Were you really, Papa? Tell us what you did, you must tell us, Papa!"

Everyone was always telling Cosette and Éponine what lovely, beautiful girls they were, so pretty and sweet. Even in Montfermeil, the customers that frequented the Seargeant at Waterloo told Maman and Papa, "What a pretty child your Éponine is! She'll woo all the gentlemen when she gets a bit bigger. And so charming and hospitable too! Your are blessed, Monsieur, Madame. You have a wonderful little girl here!"

They never told Azelma any of that.

And it was Éponine who was the daring rose. As for Cosette, she had the loveliest if voices.

_You won't ever be the favourite, Azelma. You never were and you never will be. The _monsieur_ chooses 'Ponine and Cosette over you. It will always be like that. You'll just be the secondary character in the background. _

Azelma pushed herself back from the door frame and fell backwards onto her bed. She curled up into a ball, hugged her knees, tucked her nose in. Began to cry. Cry and sing.

She sang Cosette's special song, under her breath, over and over, not stopping, changing Cosette's line to her own.

"_She says, ''Zelma, I love you very much.'"_

Footsteps. The creaking of a door. Azelma squeezed her eyes tight. A hand on her shoulder. A small one, not the _monsieur_'s.

"Azelma?"

Azelma cracked open one eye to see Cosette standing over her, her blond hair tickling Azelma's nose.

Azelma sat up and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. "Cosette."

Cosette sat down next to the ginger girl. "You were singing my song."

"I was."

Azelma wriggled. "Are you upset that I was?"

Cosette laughed. "No, of course not! I only came to tell you that Papa was taking us out for Easter shopping. But why ever were you singing my song? What upset you so?"

Azelma shook her head. "It was nothing. Easter shopping, you say?"

She stood and took her bonnet, tying it under her chin. Cosette watched her solemnly. "You know, Azelma, Papa is very good to us. You'd do well to accept him at last."

Azelma spun. "It's different for you! You never had a Papa nor Maman before _him_!" As soon as the words left her mouth, Azelma knew she'd said something nasty. She clapped her hands over her mouth.

Cosette, meanwhile, flinched under the girl's harsh words. She rose. "I'm sorry, Azelma," she murmured. "I was only trying to help."

Azelma took Cosette's hand. "Forgive me. That was cruel."

Cosette shook her off. "It is forgotten. Let's go for the shopping!" She pushed open the door and ran into _his_ arms. The _monsieur_ laughed and kissed her atop the head as if he had always been her Papa.

Azelma understood Cosette's awe with him, but 'Ponine? 'Ponine, her sister. Azelma and her sister had always had a loving Maman and Papa. She clenched her fists as Éponine giggled and reached for him with a cry of, "Papa! Spin me, too!"

The man looked up from his hugs. "Azelma, you're awake. Would you like breakfast?"

"We waited for you, you know," Éponine complained. "I'm hungry now. And as Cosette told you, we're to do Easter shopping! The rain has stopped. Isn't that exciting?" She approached Azelma and spun her round in a circle. "We'll buy a new dress each, and our dolls, too, shall have pretty new gowns! And there will be roast pork and vegetables! Pain au chocolat!"

At the mention of her favorite treat, Azelma perked up, her reason for sulking moments ago all but forgotten. Why face her anger when she could forget it, delay it, all for a simple bit of something sweet? "Will we really? Pain au chocolat?"

Éponine gave a happy nod. "Yes, yes, Papa told me. Come, we simply _must_ eat now. There is baguette and cheese."

* * *

**Cosette**

**OVER BREAKFAST, AZELMA **was, as always, quiet. Cosette wished she could put the past behind her, her old Maman and Papa, and begin to live happily. It would make things much easier, both for the family and Azelma herself.

But Azelma would not, and Cosette could do nothing but give her time. She certainly wasn't about to sulk along with her. She had put her own wretched past behind her, and she didn't see why Azelma could leave behind her own happy, carefree one.

But she was happy that Éponine had accepted Papa whole heartedly. And she simply could not fathom why Azelma could not be happy with Papa. At eight years old, a doll, fine clothes, and a very loving and doting Papa was much more than Cosette could have asked for. Even in her castle on a cloud things were not this perfect.

So why was Azelma so unhappy? And those words she spoke a few weeks ago: "_I'm sure that isn't even his real name!_" What did Azelma mean? Why would her Papa lie to her, and about something so simple as his name at that?

* * *

**Valjean**

**"HAVE YOU ALL** finished?" Valjean asked. He stood, began to gather the dishes. "I will wash the dishes. You may play while you wait."

Éponine and Azelma were off and into the bedroom in seconds flat, but Cosette scrambled from her seat and looked up at Papa. "I'll help you," she said earnestly.

Valjean smiled and kissed the crown of her little blonde head. "Oh, no, _mon amour_. You play with your sisters."

Cosette frowned. "But, Papa, don't you want my help? Here now, I'll take them." Small eight-year-old hands stretched out, reaching for the dishes stacked in Valjean's hands. He pulled them away.

"Help is not necessary, Cosette," he assured her. "But, if you like, you may keep me company."

Cosette shook her head and sighed dejectedly. "Very well, Papa."

As he scrubbed each of the china plates well, Cosette sat atop a high wooden stool, watching him happily. She hummed a song softly, and Valjean smiled at her. He finished the washing quickly, and after he had dried each dish, he asked of the little blonde: "Fetch your sisters and tell them that we are leaving."

"Yes, Papa!" Cosette cried. She hurried off to the bedroom, and in just a few minutes, Valjean was out the door. Éponine insisted on being carried on his shoulders, and Azelma would not take his free hand. She took Cosette's, but despite her constant silence, Azelma did not hide her awe in some of the loveliest dresses that sat in shop windows. Calling to women and little girls alike.

The marketplace was alive with Easter spirit. Vendors sold chocolates geese, fish, and vegetables for Easter dinner others offered dresses in vibrant shades of yellow and pink. Others still sold all varieties of cakes and chocolates. The children insisted on stopping for the small samples of the _petit fours_.

In an hour, Valjean was nearly all done his shopping. He'd purchased a fat duck for tomorrow night's dinner as well as three new dresses for his daughters.

He grinned as he recalled that moment when Éponine, still mounted atop his shoulders like a trophy, had excitedly pointed out the stall. "Oh, Papa!" she begged. "You did tell us, didn't you, that you'd buy us new dresses today!"

Valjean had chuckled and set her down. "Indeed I did, _ma chérie_. And we may buy it from this stall if you like. Go on, point out the dress you'd like. All of you may have any one you wish."

Éponine had reached out and touched the hem of a certain pink dress. It was a fine gown with a proud blue sash and ruffled hem.

"Is this the dress you would like?" Valjean had asked of the brunette, and she had nodded. "Oh, yes, please."

Cosette had chosen, in the end, a bright yellow, short-sleeved gown with a pale blue necktie, and Azelma simply took a pale blue dress and handed it to Valjean.

Now, carrying several parcels, including the duck and the girls' dresses, Cosette suddenly stumbled to a stop alongside him.

Valjean, too, stopped short. "Cosette? What is - " He saw what had made her stop so suddenly. The stall before them revealed an emormous, beautiful doll, much more luxurious than the ones Valjean had bought his daughters at the toy shop in Montfermeil. This one was clad in a gown of the deepest red velvet, and the darkest, pretty hair under a feathered hat.

"Oh, _Papa,_" she whispered, then shook her head. "N-no, Papa, you must forgive me. This doll is much too expensive, and I already have a pretty doll of my own." She lowered her gaze and moved to resume walking.

Valjean bent, rested a hand on her little shoulder. "Cosette, do you want that doll?"

Cosette shook her head. "I've already a doll. And a wonderful one she is too."

Valjean shook his head as Éponine and Azelma moved to admire the doll themselves. "Cosette, I do not see why you may have more than one doll to play with. How about this: I shall buy you the doll and the three of you may share her."

To his surprise, Cosette responded by throwing her arms around her father's neck. "Oh, yes, thank you, Papa!"

The three girls chattered about what to call their pretty new doll on the walk home.

"Adèle." Azelma pressed.

"Mariette." Cosette argued

"No, no, we simply must call her Mélodie," Éponine insisted.

It wasn't until after dinner that night that Cosette and Éponine came running to Valjean as he prepared for tomorrow's Easter dinner. "Papa, Papa, we've a name for the doll! We've a name for the doll!"

"Do you?" Valjean set down his knife and looked down at the girls in fascination. "What is it?"

The two young voices chirped, almost simeltaneosly, "Pénélope!"

"A splendid name," said Valjean in approval. "Now, there is something I must discuss with you."

"What is it, Papa?" Cosette asked curiously with those wide blue eyes of hers.

Valjean sat down. "Tomorrow is Easter, as you know, but the day after, I must do my volunteer work at the church. Would you girls like to join me?"

Éponine answered. "Oh, could we not stay here and enjoy Pénélope. May we, Papa?"

Valjean nodded slowly. "You may this time."

Both children let out squeals of delight before hurrying to tell Azelma. As he cooked, Valjean did not hear his daughters' hushed bedroom conversation.

"We will go and explore Paris again. We shan't be lost again. We can go to the Notre Dame and watch the men from the market pack their things!" said Éponine in earnest.

"But 'Ponine," argued Cosette as she set Pénélope down on the night-table, "We were nearly lost last time. We were very lucky that young man helped us, or we'd have returned home after Papa arrived. What will we do if we're lost again?"

Azelma cut in, "Well, I think it's a simply _scandalous_ idea. We won't be lost this time, we know the way. I'd love to see the Notre Dame again, if I do say so myself."

Éponine straightened her skirts and sat on the floor, looking up at her sisters with wide brown eyes. "Yes, Azelma, we won't be lost at all. We won't stray further that the Luxembourg and the Notre Dame."

Cosette sighed. "But 'Ponine…"

A hand was all it took to silence her. "Cosette, listen. You must trust me. We will all go for a little bit after Easter. We still have the money you found, Azelma; I've hidden it under my mattress. We'll be able to buy some lovely things with that money…"

Azelma spun in a circle. "A parasol, just like a lady!"

"No, no," argued 'Ponine, "a parasol will be much too expensive and Papa will notice it. But we might buy a pretty box of sweets."

"I don't like this," Cosette whispered.

Azelma cut in, "Like it or not, we'll be going."


	13. Chapter 13: Afrodille

Chapter 13…Afrodille

* * *

**April 1824**

**Paris**

* * *

**Valjean**

**VALJEAN AWOKE HIS **daughters with a kiss on the forehead, and both Cosette and Éponine responded with a joyous "Happy Easter, Papa!" and a hug that pulled the man down.

"All right, _mes filles_," said Valjean, laughing. "Now, breakfast is prepared, so rise quickly and get dressed. I've prepared something very special for Easter dinner."

Cosette responded to her Papa's news by leaping up, throwing her arms around his neck, and wrapping her legs around his waist. She buried her small face into her shoulder and crowed a muffled, "Oh, will we really, Papa?"

"What will be having?" Éponine wanted to know. She began to jump up and down on her bed. "Won't you tell us?"

Valjean laughed again. "You'll see if you dress," he said with a wink. A spared a glance to Azelma. The ginger girl was sprawled on her back, watching him with those wide, brown doe eyes of hers. The more he looked at his youngest daughter, the more resemblance she bore to a gentle doe.

Azelma, he'd noticed, was hardly an aggressive child. She was sweet and playful, when she wasn't around him. And now, the way she was watching Valjean and her sisters…sad and miserable. There was longing in those eyes, and Valjean wondered if her yearning was for her own parents or to join him.

With Cosette still latched onto him, as she refused to let go, Valjean approached the seven-year-old. "Azelma, my darling. Why don't you and your sisters dress for a special Easter breakfast, hmm?"

Azelma rolled over so she did not have to face him. "I am not hungry."

"You must be hungry," Valjean objected. "Shall I return in ten minutes?" In vain, he tried to pry Cosette from his chest, but the tiny blonde wouldn't let go.

"If you wish," Azelma shrugged and waved a hand.

Valjean reached for her, but she shrugged him off. With a sigh, the man took a step back and focused his attention on Cosette and Éponine.

Cosette let herself fall backward off the bed in a fit of giggles. "Very well, Papa!"

"We'll dress in our finest," promised Éponine with a twirl that sent the pristine white satin of her nightgown flouncing out around her, giving the child the appearance of an angel.

Valjean cast another mournful glance towards Azelma before shutting the door for his daughters to dress.

_You call them your daughters, Jean, but can Azelma really be your daughter if you have so little a relationship with her?_

* * *

**Cosette**

**"I SHOULD LIKE **to wear this, I believe." Éponine posed in front of the looking glass, holding a soft cream-colored gown out in front of her. It was an extravagant dress, that went without saying. The collar was frilled with lace and the cuffs and hems were stitched with a fine pattern of yellow daffodils. The sleeves were puffed and the hem was rumpled. The dress was the height of fashion for children these days, and the illusion of it all was completed with a pure satin yellow sash.

"It looks beautiful on you, 'Ponine," Cosette confided in her sister in a hushed voice. "You look to be a princess."

Éponine curtsied. "Why, thank you. It is rather lovely, isn't it? Whatever will you wear, then? We are sisters, and we must both look to be princesses."

Cosette's eyes widened at the prospect. "Papa has bought me some wonderful dresses just as lovely as yours, but I could never look to be a…a _princess_." She shook her head vigorously. "How could I? I'm not nearly as pretty as you are. Or as Azelma. I'm still far too thin, I look to be a skeleton!"

"Nonsense," chided her sister. Cosette watched as Éponine fetched her a fine gown of the palest of pinks, ornated with roses. "These match. Put it on."

Blushing, Cosette slipped behind the dressing-screen and stepped into the luxurious dress. She turned from side to side, tried to pin it up, but nothing could stop the way it sagged at the shoulders. No matter what, one of her bony shoulders remained exposed. At last, Cosette gave up and took her shawl.

It was not a fine stole at all, for it was the plain, green, plaid one Papa had bought her in Montfermeil. The shawl, she supposed, was nice, but she didn't look a princess in it. Cosette sighed and placed her little bonnet on her head.

_Well, I don't look ugly._

She emerged to see 'Ponine tying a bonnet under her chin. Her sister turned. "You look lovely!"

"Well, the shawl…I don't look a princess, now, do I?"

Éponine wagged her finger. "What nonsense! Why shouldn't a princess wear a humble shawl? Is she so very bourgeois she can't possibly wear anything modest? It's plain, but it's fine. Very fine, I should think. Now, Azelma, do hurry and dress or we shall wait an eternity for breakfast!"

Azelma shrugged and ducked behind the dressing-screen. She emerged moments later in one of her plainer dresses, a simple church gown. Of course, Cosette would have given anything to wear something like it in Montfermeil, with the Thénardiers. Then she'd had nothing but rags to wear.

"That's rather plain," Éponine remarked.

Azelma shrugged. "Well, I think it looks rather nice."

"Suit yourself."

In the kitchen, Papa had set out the best silverware and china, and had placed his special silver candlesticks on the table, unlit. This surprised Cosette quite a bit, as Papa was very protective of his candlesticks. Once, Cosette had reached out for them, intending to light them for dinner. Papa had grabbed them from her and shoved them under his shirt. He'd explained to his little girl that these candlesticks were very special; they'd been given to him by a very kind man many, many years ago.

Éponine noticed the same thing. "Papa," the brunette exclaimed in surprise, "Papa, you've set your best silverware out!"

Papa nodded. "I shall light them at dinner. Now, why don't we sit and enjoy our breakfast?" He turned and placed the enormous silver platter in front of him.

Cosette could not suppress her gasp and cry of joy. Easter breakfast was absolutely beautiful. On the platter were several slices of a juicy red apple, arranged in a circle. In the center of the circle was a perfect array of succulent, fat, grapes and small squares of pear. The rest of the platter was adorned with fat slices of baguette slathered with all sorts of jams and cheeses, a croissant each, rolls of ham, and, best of all, _pain au chocolat._

"Oh, Papa," breathed Cosette as she took a step closer. "Oh, it's simply perfect!" She sat down and stared at the festive meal. "This is lovely."

Papa chuckled. "Well, let us all sit down and enjoy it. Would you care for a glass of warm milk, _ma petite_? The rest of you?"

"Please, Papa," Cosette murmured. She was hardly aware of her sisters murmuring their own agreement and taking their places next to her.

"Why, how wonderful!" crowed Éponine. She snatched a roll of ham and popped it into an expectant mouth. She smacked her lips, licked her fingers. "How delicious! Oh!" she exclaimed, noting Cosette and Azelma's surprised expressions. "That was rather unladylike of me, wasn't it? Well, I don't care. It's a silly rule anyhow." And she took another roll of the ham.

Breakfast was a most charming affair. Even Azelma could not hide her pleasure. Cosette feasted upon fruit, ham, and the much-anticipated _pain au chocolat._ After the meal, Papa took them to Mass, where the Priest lead them in prayers all about Easter. Afterwards, Papa read to them from their book of Grimm's Fairy Tales, and even produced a large bag of chocolates. But it wasn't until after Easter dinner that Éponine seemed the happiest.

"Tomorrow we shall have the time of our _lives_! And we have ten francs left." The brunette spun in a circle, singing to herself.

Cosette leaned forwards. "The time of our lives? But, 'Ponine, didn't we enjoy ourselves today?"

Her sister shrugged. "It was a perfectly wonderful day, and I enjoyed myself immensely. But there was not much adventure. I'd like adventure."

* * *

_One day later…_

* * *

**Éponine**

**WHEN ÉPONINE WOKE, **Papa was just leaving. The determined little eight-year-old strode into the room just as he was putting on his hat.

"But Papa, when shall you be back?"

Papa turned and smiled. "_Ma petite _'Ponine. I'm afraid I will be gone nearly all day."

Éponine widened her eyes and feigned tears. "Oh, P-Papa…"

"You are welcome to join me, my love. But your sisters are still asleep, and we cannot leave them here. Now, don't you worry." Papa pulled his daughter into a tight, one-armed hug. "You'll be safe here, and I shall return by eight o'clock. We will eat what is left of Easter dinner."

Éponine sniffed and nodded. "_Oui, _Papa."

Papa nodded. "That's my good girl." A tip of his hat, and he was off. Éponine waited at the window, watched as her Papa strode down Rue Plumet, turn the corner, and disappear from sight. Éponine waited one minute…two…three…

"Cosette! Azelma!" she shouted. She turned on her heel and tore into the bedroom. She leaped atop Cosette's bed and began to jump up and down. "Cosette, Azelma, you must wake up this instant!"

"What is it?" groaned Cosette. She tugged her blankets over her blond head. "What time is it? Let me sleep; I'm so very tired!"

"Have you forgotten already?" giggled Éponine. "We're to explore!" She let the word _explore_ drag out, letting her tongue relish it, enjoying the taste of it. "We're to have an _adventure_!"

"Has Papa left already?" murmured Cosette, from her place under the blankets.

"He has. Now, hurry, or I fear we shan't ever set foot out the door!" With a jovial cry, Éponine leaped off the bed and scuttled behind the dressing-screen for modesty's sake. She dressed in the same beautiful gown she'd had yesterday, and the same fine bonnet.

Within half and hour, all were ready and fed. Éponine pocketed the ten francs, and, joining arms with her two sisters, they were off.

"Where to first?" asked Azelma, straightening a velvet bonnet. "The park? I'd love to play on that swing again!"

"Not the swing," argued Éponine. "No, no. We'll wander down all the main avenues first. We can buy some goodies at the baker's, or toys!"

"I'd like some more _pain au chocolat,_" said Azelma agreeably, skipping a bit as she went. "Yes, yes. A walk down the main avenue _would_ be lovely."

The girls continued their stride, singing delightedly. For Éponine especially, there was something forbiddingly delightful in this little adventure. They passed shop windows where beautiful dresses and parasols beckoned them from behind their glass prisons.

Éponine was about to enter a particularly tempting bakery when she heard a young voice behind her:

"Please, Madame, just a crumb or two."

She turned her head to see a very rich woman in the most posh hat imaginable. A thick fur stole was wrapped around her shoulders. Midnight black locks peered out from under a tall satin bonnet.

At the woman's feet crouched a very young girl, no older than Éponine herself. But unlike Éponine, in her posh finery, this girl was clad in nothing but a filthy blue rag. Her golden hair was cut unevenly, and it hung, greasy and dirty, over her bony shoulders. It was this girl who had spoken.

Éponine stopped to watch, and to her dismay, the woman shoved her away. "I've told you no, you bothersome little rat. Now, why don't you go and leave me alone? Go on, you little urchin, crawl back to your gutter!" And with a disdainful sniff, she stepped into the dress shop.

The young girl sat on the cobblestones, burying her young face into bare knees, and began to sob.

Cosette had been watching the girl with a look of pain, no doubt thinking of her times in Montfermeil. Azelma looked upset, and it was then that Éponine came to a decision. She approached the young urchin.

"Hello."

The girl sniffed and raised her head. "Oh – mademoiselle…"

Éponine reached out a hand. "Are you cold? It is quite cold today for April."

The girl paused. "N-no, mademoiselle…" Her chattering teeth betrayed her words.

Éponine nodded slowly. "Well, perhaps you're hungry? Would you care to join us at the bakery?"

The girl's eyes widened. "Oh, mademoiselles…"

Cosette piped, "You needn't call any of us _mademoiselle_. We're children like you. How old are you?"

The beggar girl answered, "I am ten."

"There now, you see!" Cosette laughed a bit. "You're older than us. We're only eight. We must call _you_ mademoiselle."

Azelma cast a glance at the poor girl. "Well, I am seven."

"Will you join us at the bakery?" Éponine interrupted.

The young girl nodded. "Oh, yes, please…thank you!"

As they crossed the street, Cosette asked, "My name is Cosette. What are you called?"

The girl blushed furiously and ducked her head. "Afrodille."

"What a beautiful name," remarked Éponine. "I am Éponine." She pushed open the door to the bakery, and indicated that Afrodille should enter first. The child trembled as she set foot inside the place. Never before had the poor girl ever had an entire sweet to herself, and no one of the upper class had showed her any kindness before.

Éponine cocked her head and asked, "Well. What would you like?"

Afrodille dared to point at a small, lavender tart. "That, if you please, _mademoiselle._"

"Oh, that's very good," Azelma breathed. "They make the very best here, too."

The baker's wife shot Azelma a smile crossing between pleasure and disgust as her eyes lingered a moment too long on Afrodille's wretched appearance.

After the purchase of four delicious lavender tarts, Éponine murmured, "Now, we still have nine francs left after that purchase. You must take them." She dropped her coins into Afrodille's soot-streaked palm.

Afrodille's mouth fell open. "Oh! I…M-mademoiselle…I cannot thank you enough."

Cosette shook her head. "You need not thank us. I hope you will be well. Do enjoy the tart."

Afrodille nodded. "Oh, yes, I _shall_."

"Good-bye," Éponine said with a smile. She turned to go, when suddenly a though struck her. "Oh – _mademoiselle._" She handed the bag of lavender tarts to Cosette, untied her fur shawl. "Here. Take this."

And she secured it around Afrodille's own shoulders. The young beggar girl thanked Éponine profusely with tears in her eyes.

"I hope she will be well," murmured Cosette as they rounded the corner.

"Yes, yes, so do I," agreed Éponine. "The money should last her quite a while." She ruffled her skirts and raised her chin. "Well, ladies, where shall we go?"

"To the swing!" cried Azelma without hesitation. "Or – no, better yet, to the Notre Dame!"

"The Notre Dame it is," agreed Éponine. She took the bag of lavender tarts and distributed one to each of her sisters.

They ate the delicacies while walking, and the tarts were like heaven on her tongue. She asked a fruit vendor for directions to the Notre Dame, and the old man was all too happy to offer them to someone well-off.

Once they found the great cathedral, they began to throw the crumbs of their cakes to the birds, and the pigeons gobbled them up greedily. Éponine found herself lost in a wave of happiness and she, Cosette, and Azelma ambled about, without a care in the world.

But her joy was cut short by one hand on her shoulder and a wave of policemen.

"Whatever are you doing?" she cried as two officers began to drag her towards their waiting carriage. "What have I done?"

Cosette and Azelma, too, were being dragged towards the carriage. Cosette was crying, and Azelma looked terribly confused as she looked about her. But she froze at the sight of one who seemed to be the head Inspector.

"Let me go!" snarled Éponine. "Why are you taking me?"

"Are you called Éponine? Are your sisters Azelma and Cosette?" a burly officer snapped as he wrestled the struggling brunette into the carriage.

"How do you know that?"

"Do you come from Montfermeil?"

"Yes, but…how do you know this? How have you found us? What are you _doing_? Let me _go!_"

Two officers shoved Cosette and Azelma in next to her. The head Inspector who Azelma had noticed joined them. A _crack_ of the whip of the horse's flank, and they were off.

Cosette had not ceased to cry, and she had taken to whispering under her breath, "Papa…Papa…Papa…"

"Azelma." The Inspector leaned in close. Éponine drew back and turned to her sister.

"Azelma? Do you know anything? Whatever is going on?"

The Inspector addressed her now. "My children, I am afraid your 'father' is a terrible criminal. He is a convict who has broken his parole. We have been searching for him for many years, and you must not live with him any longer."

Éponine froze. "Pardon?"

"Now, I will be taking you to a safe place far from Paris. A note of ransom will be written to your father. In exchange for your return to your home in Montfermeil, he must turn himself in. However, you must give us your street address."

Azelma had taken this affair in sullen silence, staring at her feet. "Fifty-five Rue Plumet," she whispered.

The Inspector thanked her, but did not speak again. Éponine and her sisters were left in a confused, terrified silence, as the carriage pulled them farther and farther away from their home in Paris, and Papa, who simply _couldn't_ be a convict.

There must be a mistake, a terrible mistake.

But nothing could suppress Éponine's confused, horrified, fear.


	14. Chapter 14: Wayward

Chapter 14…Wayward

* * *

_**Author's Note: I hope the action scenes aren't too horrible. I'm not very good at writing that kind of thing…well, I hope you enjoy at least a bit!**_

* * *

**April 1824**

**Sablé-sur-Sarthe**

* * *

**Cosette**

**THEY RODE FOR **several hours. The Inspector allowed the girls to eat the lavender tarts they purchased. Twilight fell. Cosette leaned against Éponine, doing her best not to cry.

_What is happening? Where are they taking us? Papa, oh Papa, please come now. But be safe, Papa. These bad men want to hurt you! Papa, I'm frightened._

Sometimes, she would lean over to peer out at the darkening sky and think to herself: _Mama? Do you know what is happening?_

Cosette cast a glance towards Azelma. The ginger girl was huddled on the edge of her seat, not talking. Staring at her feet.

" 'Ponine?" Cosette whispered. She leaned forward and cast a frightened glance over to the Inspector, afraid he would tell her to stop talking. He did not. She wondered if he had heard her. She whispered again: " 'Ponine, whatever shall we do now?"

Next to Cosette, Éponine clenched her skirts tightly as she breathed back: "I do not know."

With a sigh, Cosette allowed herself to fall back in her seat. Her fingers stroked the cracked leather, traced out each crevice, each line of torn material. It was silent now, so very silent. The only sound was that neat, constant rhythm of the horse's hooves.

There came a great cracking sound and the terrified whinny of the horse. The carriage keeled to a stop. Azelma screamed.

The Inspector leaned forward and rapped on the glass that separated the rich riders from the driver. "What is going on?" he demanded of the driver. "Why are we stopping?"

"It seems one of our wheels is broken, _monsieur. _Would you and your hostages be so kind as to step out for a moment?"

The Inspector sniffed disdainfully but nodded. "Very well. Out with you, my girls." He waved his hand as though shooing a troublesome fly.

It was Éponine who was nearest the door. She opened it obligingly and hopped out, but Cosette could not miss that sudden gleam in her eye. The blonde frowned as she followed her sister.

_Is 'Ponine up to something? I should hope not, for we are already in enough trouble as it is._

Outside, the sky was a beautiful watercolor of sunset. A collage of pale pinks and oranges, dashes of violet. A blood-red sun.

Azelma gripped Éponine's hand tightly as the Inspector climbed out. Cosette pulled back into her shell.

The driver, meanwhile, was crouched by the wheel, examining it. His trousers were muddy, but he was, as the wealthy saw him, a mere cab driver. He was poor, and therefore only deserving of worn, muddy trousers. His horse, too, was still very spooked and Cosette dared to move forward and rub its neck.

"Aye, Inspector, _m'sieur_, it looks as though the wood o' the carriage's been split. We're lucky we didn't tip over. Now, to reach yer destination…" he glanced towards the carriage full of other Inspectors that had been following them.

The Inspector shook his head. "No, no. We shan't travel in that, not all of us. Send your friend to the nearest village and fetch another one."

Cosette raised her head and took a step back from the horse.

The driver frowned. "But, Inspector _m'sieur_, we're in a village right now. This is Sable-sur-Sarthe, a farmer's town."

"Then the village where we might find one."

"Aye, that'll be a ways. Well, yeh'll just 'ave to wait then, Inspector, _m'sieur_."

"Very well."

Éponine beckoned to Cosette, and the blonde hurried over.

"You're planning something, aren't you?" Cosette scolded her sister.

Éponine's smile was that of the cat who killed the mouse. "Why, of course I do. Now, you must listen to me…"

* * *

**Éponine**

**"ONE…" ÉPONINE BREATHED**, a hand on each of her sister's arms. "Two…"

A glance towards the Inspector and cab-driver. They were preoccupied. Crane neck up to see the large barn a hundred yards away.

"Three."

She broke into a sprint, despite the mud on the ground. Cosette and Azelma had to fly to keep up, lest Éponine yank their arms out of their sockets.

The girls ran as quietly as possible, and ducked into the large barn. It was empty, but not abandoned. Several freshly-oiled work tools leaned against the wooden walls. It was Even so, it was a surprisingly large barn for one that had so little. Above their heads, at the very top, was a hay loft. A ladder leaned there, waiting patiently to be climbed.

"Up there!"

One by one, the sisters hurried up the ladder and hid amongst the hay.

"Well." Cosette's voice was but a whisper. "Now what do we do? They'll have noticed we're gone by now, and they'll come looking for us. And even if we do get away, wherever shall we go?"

Éponine frowned. She hadn't thought quite so far ahead. But she couldn't let Cosette and Azelma know that. So she smiled and said softly, "Don't you fret. Leave it to me."

Éponine noticed a wooden shutter that faced the muddy, desolate road. She crawled over to it and pushed it open. Just a crack. One eye peered out.

Below her, Éponine saw that the head Inspector had, indeed, noticed they were gone. The other Inspectors had gathered around him, and it would seem that he was giving them instructions. Unfortunately, from this distance, the little brunette could not hear them. She fell back against the hay, leaving the window open just a crack.

"They're looking for us," she murmured.

Azelma kept her eyes at her feet, but Cosette looked on the verge of tears. Dear Cosette.

There came a bang as the Inspectors whipped the back doors of the barn open. Éponine had to suppress a little scream.

"Search for them! Search everywhere!"

As the Inspectors looked about, the girls pressed themselves flat against the floor of the hay loft. Luckily, it would seem to Éponine that they were about to leave.

Until Azelma's shoe slipped from her foot and fell to the ground below with a loud clatter.


	15. Chapter 15: Sleep to the Future

Chapter 15…Sleep to the Future

* * *

**April 1824**

**Sablé-sur-Sarthe**

* * *

_It's the police! Disappear!_

_Run for it! It's Javert!_

~ from _Javert's Intervention/The Robbery_, Éponine

* * *

**Éponine**

**HEART POUNDING. BREATH **shaky. In, out, in, out. In. Out. Pressed against the hay, not daring to move a muscle.

_In, out. _

One of the officers froze and turned on his heel. Slowly, he walked towards the shoe. Picked it up.

_In. Out._

He turned it over in his hand. Examining it. Looked up towards the hayloft.

Cosette had grown rather pale, and Azelma clapped her hand over her mouth. Wildly, in a final moment of sheer panic, Éponine looked about her.

_In, out. In. Out._

And then she saw it. A length of frayed rope, hanging from the rafters just inches from Cosette's head. Unfortunately, Cosette was preoccupied in trying not to retch of the unsuspecting officer's head, such was hear terror.

Éponine did not dare whisper Cosette's name, so she kicked a small pebble her sister's way. It rolled over and gently hit Cosette's boot.

Cosette turned to face Éponine, eyes wide as dinner plates.

Éponine raised her chin. When Cosette didn't understand, the brunette pointed upwards.

Bright blue eyes flickered up. A nod.

Footsteps below. The officer was leaving, and Cosette took this opportunity to seize the rope and dart towards the window. Éponine dashed after her little blonde sister, Azelma just behind.

Cosette secured the rope to the rafter above her and glanced at Éponine nervously for guidance. When she spoke, her voice was but a whisper.

" 'Ponine, I'm frightened."

Éponine gave her hand a squeeze. "There now, you mustn't be. You go first. Quickly, before he returns."

Cosette shook her head. "B-but what if he's down below, waiting for us?"

"Look down and you'll see that he's not. Now, hurry!"

With a frightened little squeak, Cosette took tight hold of the rope and swung out the window. Slowly, very slowly, she lowered herself down.

Éponine turned to Azelma, but her youngest sister had pinned herself against the wall and shook her head. "Oh, no, you go ahead."

Éponine nodded. "Very well." For her, the descent was perfectly comfortable, though the rope burned her small hands. She was halfway down when Azelma's scream pierced the air.

Éponine froze. "Azelma?"

Azelma's voice called down. "Éponine! Éponine, I'm stuck! I was moving towards the window, and the cuff of my dress is stuck between the wood and I cannot escape!"

Cosette looked up from below in horror, but Éponine gave a nod. Quick as a rabbit, Éponine scampered up the rope.

"Éponine! What are we to do? I can't get _out_!"

Éponine nodded. "Don't you fret. Although really, 'Zelma, you oughtn't have screamed so. You should have simply called down." She had Azelma tug, but alas, she could not escape. Azelma looked at her older sister in desperation.

" 'Ponine – find something. I can't get free."

Another nod. "Oh – yes. Yes, of course!"

Éponine skirted the area rapidly, crawled around, felt under the hay.

"Hurry!"

"I'm trying!"

Her small fingers closed around something small and rusty, but with that same cool touch of metal. Éponine glanced down at her palms. It was a rusty nail. A faint grin, and the little brunette hurried to her youngest sister's side.

At the sight of it, Azelma scowled. "Whatever shall you do with _that_? Cut my wrist?"

Éponine shook her head. "No, of course not. Move you arm, and quickly."

Azelma did so, and Éponine bit her lip. Took the fabric of Azelma's dress between two fingers and sliced at it with the nail.

Azelma pulled free. "You've ruined it!"

Éponine opened her mouth to snap back, but the banging of the barn's doors cut her short – the Inspectors had returned. There was no time to waste, and the former Thenardier children had to slide down the rope together.

Their escapade was surprisingly easy – almost _too_ easy, it seemed to young Éponine. She dropped to the ground and looked about her. "Cosette?"

"I'm here," the blonde called out softly, crawling out from behind a pile of firewood. She took one look at Éponine and Azelma and broke into a wide grin. "Oh! You're free!"

Azelma scowled. "Yes, and lost part of my dress for it too." She held up her torn sleeve. "Do you see it?"

Éponine grabbed each of her sister's hands. "Hush! There's no time for that now. We must leave this place."

And they did, running hand in hand, the darkness their cloak.

* * *

**Cosette**

**THEY FOUND A **spot quite a ways away from the barns. Under a tree in the middle of a meadow. Éponine saw a sign that read "Paris, 254 km."

"Must we walk that far?" Azelma had whispered.

Éponine had straightened her skirts and given a firm nod. "Yes. Yes, we must."

Now, the sisters curled up beneath the branches of a great willow. The ground was muddy from the past several day's rain, and it soiled her dress, but Cosette didn't mind. Dirt was something she was used to from her days in Montfermeil. She knew that Éponine, too, wouldn't care, but Azelma was surely going to fuss.

And so, when she sat down and leaned against the tree without complaint, Cosette couldn't have been more surprised.

"Whatever shall we do when we arrive in Paris?" Azelma demanded. "The Inspectors will have found _monsieur_."

Éponine lifted a shoulder. "I don't know. I suppose we go to Papa, and if he is still there, he shall take us elsewhere."

"But," Azelma protested, "what if they've already arrested him by the time we arrive? It will take us a week to walk so very far. Two hundred and fifty-four kilometers! Imagine!"

"If he's gone," Éponine said gravely, "then we live as urchins do, on the streets."

Cosette snuggled against her sister. The idea of living on the streets terrified her beyond words. In Montfermeil, the streets were her constant threat. "_If you don't work as I tell you ,if you continue to slack off as the idle things you are, I shall throw you out in the streets!_" It was an anvil held over her head, and if she didn't tie the strings tightly enough, they would break. She managed, in a small voice, to whisper: "The streets, 'Ponine? But…oughtn't we return to Montfermeil? That is where your true parents, your Maman and Papa, live."

Éponine turned to the small blonde with a scowl. "And see my parents abuse you as they did? I think not."

"But the _streets_ – at least I had a roof over my head there."

"You know," Éponine said darkly, "sometimes, the streets can be kinder than men themselves."


	16. Chapter 16: Spirits of the Meadow

Chapter 16…Spirits of the Meadow

* * *

_Will there be children and castles to see?_

~ _The Bargain / The Thenardier Waltz of Treachery, _young Cosette

* * *

**April 1824**

**Sablé-sur-Sarthe**

* * *

**Cosette**

* * *

**AZELMA HAD ROLLED** a ways down the hill come morning, forever the restless sleeper. Cosette leaned against the tree, chin tilted towards the sky. The sun could be seen rising up from the horizon, casting the world in a meek pink-orange light. It danced on Cosette's thin, wan face, kissing the little cheeks there.

Next to her, Éponine began to stir. The brunette's wide, dark doe's eyes flickered open. At first, she seemed slightly disoriented, but she quickly regained herself and rose, brushing the dirt from her dress. "Good morning, Cosette."

"Good morning 'Ponine…Azelma is still asleep. Should I wake her, or let her rest?"

Éponine cocked her head, considering. "We must wake her. I've no idea where the officers are, but I suppose they shall chase us. We'll need an early start."

"All right." Cosette crawled forward and shook Azelma's shoulder lightly. " 'Zelma. Wake up, 'Zelma."

Azelma mumbled something and shrugged Cosette's hand off. "Oh, go away, Cosette. I'm tired. Let me sleep. Tell _monsieur_ I shall be there shortly."

Cosette shook her again. "But 'Zelma, do you not remember? The Inspector, and the carriage, and the barn? Your dress? Papa is in Paris. I suppose he'll be terribly worried by now. We must return to him."

Azelma's eyes blinked open. She rose slowly to her feet, bowed her little ginger head. When she answered, her voice was small. "Oh. Yes. I had forgotten in my sleep."

"Very well." Éponine strode purposefully over to her sisters. "We've very little time, and we ought to be going."

Azelma nodded. "Yes. Let's go."

In the crisp silence of morning, the girls walked on. They stuck to the meadow, but alongside the road, following any signs to Paris. To Cosette, it was like an adventure in the fairy stories Papa would read to her late at night.

It was really rather beautiful, here in the meadow. Daisies blossomed, unable to resist the calling of May. When would May come? Soon, Cosette believed. It was the twentieth or twenty-first today. She wasn't sure which.

The grass was a vibrant green, and its blades tickled Cosette's ankles through her soiled stockings. A butterfly danced past, her white wings the same as the daisies. It was a warm day, despite yesterday's merciless cold. So peaceful.

But as they walked, it wasn't long before Azelma began to whine. "I'm _terribly_ hungry. Have you any money left? Where is the nearest village? We simply _must_ buy some bread when we arrive. Oh, I _am_ starving!"

"Stop that!" Éponine's snap came as a surprise to Cosette. The tiny blonde flinched; sharp tongues brought back equally sharp, painful memories of a time not long ago.

"Stop that," Éponine continued hotly. "Stop your whining at once. I might remind you that it is thanks to you we are here, and not at home in Paris with Papa. He must be worried sick by now."

Azelma's head drooped. Satisfied, Éponine marched forwards at a faster pace.

Cosette hurried to Azelma's side, patted her back. "There now. She's only cross. You mustn't feel so very guilty."

Azelma nodded slightly. "Yes. Yes, indeed."

And they walked on.

It was at about noon when they heard it. The faint babbling of a brook. Cosette raised her head.

Éponine glanced over at her sisters. "I'm terribly thirsty. Come, let us drink. And I suppose we ought to bathe too" – she indicated her soiled dress – "for we're very dirty."

Cosette glanced down at her skirts. "Very well." She kicked off her shoes, picked them up, and began to follow the sounds of the water. The brook was not terribly far away, and whence she arrived, Cosette tossed her shoes down and slipped into the water.

It was not cold. Cosette allowed herself to float on her back. Weightless. She was a feather. Blond hair spread out behind her, a halo of childish innocence.

A large _splash_ disturbed the peacefulness as Éponine jumped in, quickly followed by Azelma. Cosette's eyes flicked over to them before returning to the sky. She found she was watching the sky more and more. Counting the clouds. Waiting for Maman, her Maman who would never come.

* * *

**Éponine**

* * *

**IT WAS TOO **still, this water. And Éponine sought out something more than plain water. She swam in circles for a bit, but her skirts weighed her down and the brook was not very big.

And so she cupped water in her small hands and splashed it over Cosette's unsuspecting face.

Her blonde sister gasped and spluttered as she took in what had happened, and her lower lip began to tremble, a look of hurt in her brilliant blue eyes. Éponine froze, nervous. Had she hurt Cosette? Frightened her?

But just as she opened her mouth to apologize, what seemed to be a bucketful of water poured over her own face, and Cosette doubled over in giggles as Éponine shrieked.

"You're a devious thing, you know that?" Éponine giggled, shaking the water from her hair.

Cosette laughed. "Why, you should have seen the look on your face!"

The war was on. Shrieking, splashing, laughing. Azelma joined in with a battle cry,, and it wasn't until a while later that the sisters stopped.

They climbed out of the brook soaked down to the bone, heir skirts clinging stubbornly to their legs and their hair stuck to their necks. The sun still shone, so the girls stripped off their dresses and lay down, side by side, in nothing but their petticoats with the simplistic indecency of childhood, a plain uncaring. The dresses and stocking were spread out to dry with the aid of the sun.

They girls lay there for quite a while, watching the clouds go by.

"Do you suppose our gowns shall be dry by now?" Azelma asked once.

"No, I think not," Éponine said plainly.

"But we must be going. Papa shall be so very worried by now, and I worry for him. I shouldn't like to make him upset. He is such a good Papa." Cosette sighed. "Dry or not, we'll head on until night falls."

"Yes, he is a good Papa," Éponine agreed.

Azelma was silent.

"Well, I agree. We _must_ be going." Éponine stood and picked up her dress. It was heavy with wet, but the eight-year-old brunette didn't even care as she put it on. She knew it would grow cold, but under the sun's warmth, it would dry quickly.

"It's so very nice to be clean," Azelma sighed happily, buttoning her own gown at the back. "And in this gown, I feel like a princess."

"We aren't princesses, though," Cosette sighed sadly. "Not at all. We are lost. It will be quite a while before we arrive home, and we shall be completely bedraggled by then. And I could never fit into a castle. Not a true one, anyhow," she added quickly, and Éponine understood that she meant the castle of her dreams, her castle on a cloud.

"Well…" Éponine said slowly, taking her sister's hands in hers. "Perhaps we are not princesses who live in castles. Perhaps we are princesses of the meadow."

"Of the meadow?" Azelma asked. "Do you mean fairy princesses?"

Éponine grinned. She dropped Cosette's hands and spun in a circle. "Yes! Yes, that's it. We are spirits of the meadow, fairy princesses, indeed!" She laughed and went on spinning. Dancing. Free.

She stopped only when dizziness took the better of her in their little game, and she collapsed to the ground in hysterics.

"Here," she gasped, plucking a daisy from the earth. "Here, let's tuck these behind our ears."

Cosette helped Éponine to her feet and took the daisy from her, spinning it between small fingers. "Or, we could make daisy crowns."

"Daisy crowns?" Azelma frowned.

Cosette nodded, eyes shining with passion. "Oh, yes. Maman used to make them for me. I've only just remembered that." She bent down, her skirts pooling around her on the greenest of grass. "I cannot remember how to make them, but I remember that she wove them together and placed them upon my head. They were lovely."

"Splendid," Azelma exclaimed. She plucked more daisies. "Let us try it."

Journey forgotten for the time being, the three children sat down and wove the steams of picked daisies together. They placed the messy results on their heads, but alas, the knots they had tied were not nearly strong enough and became undone.

Cosette's shoulders drooped. "Oh. Perhaps that wasn't it after all. It was a silly idea. Come, let us go on."

To Éponine's surprise, it was Azelma who intervened. The seven-year-old ginger girl took Cosette's shoulders firmly and spoke in a strikingly stern tone, "No. It was not silly, not at all. And if we cannot make daisy crowns, we shall weave them into our hair."

As the girls walked, they took their ruined daisy crowns and paused, weaving them into each other's damp locks. As the sun dried their hair, the steams stuck, creating a beautiful angelic image.

They may have been lost children, as Cosette had said before, Éponine thought as they walked, but they were also spirits, spirits of this meadow. They were rulers of their own kingdom.

The kingdom of childhood, of their own minds.

The kingdom of imagination.


	17. Chapter 17: Easier Ways, Simpler Paths

Chapter 17…Easier Ways, Simpler Paths

* * *

**April 1824**

**Le Mans**

* * *

_In my life_

_There are so many questions and answers_

_That somehow seem wrong_

_And my life_

Seems to catch in the silence the sigh

_Of a faraway song_

_And it sings_

_Of a world that I long to see, out of reach_

_Just a whisper away, waiting for me…_

~ _In My Life / A Heart Full of Love_, Cosette

* * *

**Azelma**

* * *

**"I'M HUNGRY," AZELMA **declared that evening. "Terribly hungry." In fact, she'd been hungry all day, but now she couldn't help but complain.

"We all are," Éponine answered dully. "But I haven't any money."

"Are you quite certain?" Azelma insisted. She broke into a trot to keep up with her older sister's quick strides. "Did we spend it all?"

"I'm sure," sighed Éponine.

"Perhaps," suggested Cosette meekly, "perhaps we could search a gutter. It's ghastly, but there might be some old bread for us." She bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder. "This seems to be quite a large city."

Azelma shuddered and pressed in close to Éponine. She expected to be pushed away, but to her surprise, her sister wrapped an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder. Comforted by this gentle shield, Azelma glanced over her shoulder and shook her head. "Eat from a gutter? How vulgar!"

Cosette ducked her head, forever the little mouse. "Yes, it is vulgar. Forgive me – it was but an idea."

"A very good idea," Éponine spoke up. "But I've a better idea than eating from the gutter."

"Do you?" Cosette wrapped the shawl around her bony shoulders. "And what is it? I shouldn't like to go hungry."

Éponine glanced at Azelma. The seven-year-old recognized that look in her sister's eyes. It was a look she often saw in Mama's and Papa's eyes.

Azelma nodded. "Yes, let's."

"Let's what?" Cosette wanted to know. "What _is_ it?"

Éponine nodded at Cosette. "Wait here. We'll be there, in that café. We shan't be long. Just wait here, and we'll be back in a heartbeat."

Cosette's blue eyes narrowed dangerously, an expression Azelma was not used to seeing on her face. When Cosette had been their servant-girl in Montfermeil, she didn't dare look threatening. But time with Papa, in Paris, and with herself had given her a touch of bravery. "You're going to steal something, aren't you? Like your Mama and old Papa taught you. I remember, you were quite good at it."

Éponine flushed. "Well – yes."

Cosette shook her head. "No. Stealing was how Papa was caught, all those years ago. Stealing is why the police are chasing us. No, 'Ponine. I won't let you."

Éponine seemed surprised, but she nodded. "Yes…I suppose you're right, Cosette. Very well. Then it's the gutter or nothing."

"I'm all right," Cosette chirped. "I'm not _terribly_ hungry, I've gone much longer than this without a bite to eat." She smiled and took Éponine's free hand. "It will be dark soon. Why don't we find a place to rest for the night before going on tomorrow?"

Éponine nodded. "Yes, let's." The three sisters walked, close together, peacefully. They discovered that the city they were in was called Le Mans, and it was about two hundred and eight kilometers from France.

"Oh!" Cosette had breathed upon this discovery. "We've traveled quite far!"

"Yes," agreed Éponine. "Tomorrow, we'll travel even more, and then we will return home to Papa."

Azelma had frowned. "Do you believe he'll still be there? The _monsieur_?"

Cosette nodded. "He is our Papa. He loves us dearly. He shan't leave until he knows we are safe."

Azelma didn't know what to make of it all. She didn't speak much, she simply stayed close to Éponine. All she _really_ wanted was to be at home. At home, and she wanted Neige, and Pénélope. And she wanted her Mama and she wanted her Papa.

But now, she didn't even know which Papa she wanted. The one that she knew all her life, the one who had abused Cosette, or the thief who had shown her nothing but kindness and warmth in the four months she'd been living with him.

_And your other Papa, too, is a thief, you must remember that. At least _monsieur_ only stole a few times … what was it that Inspector said? He'd stolen a loaf of bread and a silver coin, was it not? Well, your Papa from Montfermeil stole much more than that, remember that, Azelma._

"Oh! This should be a perfect lodging!" Azelma found herself back in reality at the sound of Cosette's voice.

The three of them stood before an old house, which looked empty. Its windows were boarded, and the door was missing. The house leaned on its side, as if it would fall over any day now.

"It looks as old as the Notre Dame!" exclaimed Azelma. "Older … the Notre Dame did not look so very decrepit."

"Let's see of there's a place to sleep," said Éponine.

There was – an old mattress and some scratchy blankets on the floor, upstairs. The three sisters curled in together closely. Éponine found a candle that still lit.

"I suppose we'll leave Paris, then?" Cosette sighed sadly. "After we see Papa. Those officers know where we live. And they'll come for Papa."

"I wonder where we shall go?" sighed Azelma. "Perhaps to a beautiful village with countryside. Like Arles. And in our storybooks, Troyes is painted to be lovely. Do you remember our storybooks, Éponine?"

"I remember," Éponine sighed. The candlelight flickering across her face. "There are so many places."

"It's hard to do all this," Azelma murmured sleepily. "It would be far more easy if we were animals."

"Animals?" Cosette giggled. "What animals?"

Éponine rose from the mattress and pried at one of the boards on the windows. The rotted wood gave easily. She sat upon the window sill and looked up at the starry night. "I'd like to be a bird if I were an animal."

"A bird?" Cosette asked.

"Yes, yes. It _would_ be much easier if you and I were birds. To soar freely, and there would be much less to worry about!" Éponine giggled and dropped down from the sill. She ran in a circle, flapping her arms as though they were wings.

Unable to resist such a calling, Azelma clambered out of her own bed and flapped her "wings" too, laughing. Cosette joined them, and the three little birds soared around the room, always earthbound.

But after a minute or so, Éponine stopped flapping. She stopped spinning. Let her arms fall to her sides. She frowned.

"Éponine?" Cosette asked, concerned. She frowned, too. "Éponine. What's wrong?"

Éponine lifted a shoulder. "I was only thinking that, it would be easier if we were birds, but not as lovely. We would follow a much simpler path."

"A simpler path?"

"There would be much less than what we have now, you see. No storybooks. No music. No games where we are meadow spirits." Éponine leaned against the wall. "Would we be as happy?"

Cosette cocked her head to one side, considering. "Perhaps as happy as we needed to be. But you're right. I don't want to be a bird if it means we can't be meadow spirits." A yawn escaped the tiny blonde. "I'm very tired. Let's sleep."

It was in the shadows of nighttime that the dreams came to Azelma.

She is at home, her home in Montfermeil. She sits down at a table, and she has Neige. Such a pretty doll. Éponine walks into the room with Lily, and the two of them begin to play. Cosette appears, but she does not wear rags. She wears a fine gown, and she has Fantine. She sings to her doll softly, and it is all so very peaceful and happy.

_Papa enters the room. "_Mes filles!" _he cries. Laughing, Éponine sets Lily down and runs to him. He spins her in circles, and she giggles and giggles._

_"Azelma, come and give your Papa a kiss," he says. Azelma does not need to be told twice, it is so good to see him after so long. She runs into his arms and he pecks her cheek while tickling her. Cosette skips around them, chanting out, "Papa, Papa, spin me too!" _

_Azelma is not ready to give Papa up yet. She holds onto him tightly, but when he lets her go, finally, she sees his face._

_It is not her Papa's face._

_It is Monsieur's. _


	18. Chapter 18: Homeward Bound

Chapter 18…Homeward Bound

* * *

**April 1824**

**Le Mans**

* * *

**Cosette**

* * *

**"****_LES ENFANTS. _****WAKE **up."

Somebody was shaking her. Sleepily, Cosette rubbed her eyes. "Just a few minutes more, 'Ponine," she mumbled.

Another shake. "Do wake up now…I am not 'Ponine."

Cosette opened her eyes. It was still dark outside. The candle that Éponine had lit still burned, and she realized just how inanely stupid they had been by keeping it lit overnight. While they slept. How silly! They might have started a fire.

Leaning over her was a man. An older man, with a lantern in hand. He nodded. "You're awake. Your sisters, however are a different story … they are your sisters, aren't they? You don't look especially alike."

Cosette frowned. "I … yes, they're my sisters. But, _monsieur_, whoever might you be?"

"Allow me to explain whence your sisters awaken." The old man gave Éponine a hard shake. At last, the brunette's eyes blinked open. Next to her, Azelma, too, opened her eyes.

"Whoever might _you_ be?" Éponine said hotly. "Whatever are you doing here?"

The man bowed his head and offered Éponine his hand. "My name is Bernand. I live in one of the little flats across the road. I saw the light on in the window and came to investigate you see. But what are three young girls such as yourselves doing, sleeping in this old sewer?" The man, Bernand, frowned. "You look well-off, if a bit dirty. Where are you from?"

Cosette glanced at Éponine, who offered a wary nod. The tiny blonde spoke. "From Paris, _monsieur_. We were separated from our Papa and are trying to find our way back."

"On foot?"

"Yes."

"That's a very long way for three young girls to travel on their own." Bernand frowned. "Were you planning on traveling on your own? Why don't the three of you come into my home? Rest in a proper bed for the night, and have some breakfast in the morning."

Azelma looked hopeful. She took a step forwards. The old man smiled kindly at her, before turning to Éponine and Cosette. "Is something the matter?"

Éponine crossed her arms over her chest. Cosette, unsure, hovered by her side, always a lost little lark. Éponine scowled at the man Bernand. "Papa says we aren't to trust strangers."

The old man nodded. "Your Papa could not be more right, either, _mes enfants_. However, I mean you no harm. My wife is resting in our home also. I shall be traveling through Paris tomorrow morning. I don't suppose you'd accept a ride?"

Éponine's jaw fell open, but she nodded. "Very well. But if you…try to harm us, you shall regret the decision for the rest of your life."

The man Bernand only laughed. "I shall have to trust you, then. Come on then." He offered his hand, and Éponine took it with a meek "Thank you, _monsieur_."

Cosette took Éponine's hand and Azelma took that of Bernand. The foursome crossed the road and entered a large house. They mounted three stories before the man pushed open a door.

His home was humble. A small kitchen and sitting room at the front of the house. A narrow hallway. However, there were two bedrooms.

"This one is mine," explained Bernand, pointing. "And the other one belongs to my children. Or it did. You see, they've since moved to Arles. They're quite grown up now, my children. But they often stop by to visit me, and my wife. You are free to used it."

He pushed open the door to another bedroom and held his lit candle aloft, offering just enough light to see the beds.

"Thank you." Cosette bowed her head gratefully, as Éponine and Azelma fell back together onto the beds. There were only two of them, but Cosette was such a small child she could share hers with Azelma.

"Is it all right? Your lodging, that is to say." Bernand waved at the bedroom. "I do hope it is suitable."

"Oh, it's lovely," Cosette spoke up. "Thank you, _monsieur_. Is there anything I may do to repay you? I could, perhaps, do some cleaning. I can sweep floors and scrub. I can wash laundry and I can dust. I could clean your chimney, too, if you have one. Have you a chimney?"

The old man frowned. "_Ma petite fille_, that is hardly necessary. This is something I am doing out of mere kindness. You needn't work to repay me. Why, you needn't repay me at all. You mustn't."

Cosette frowned. Was this old man as kind as her Papa? Since leaving Montfermeil, she had run into so very many kind strangers. Why had there been no one kind in her life when she _was_ in Montfermeil, besides Éponine? Were there so few kindred spirits on this Earth?

Cosette tuned the rest of the world out then. She closed her eyes, and feel victim to the taunting lullaby of sleep.

* * *

Éponine

* * *

**ÉPONINE WOKE TO **the sunlight shining on her face, dancing on her cheeks. With a murmured yawn, she rolled over and wrapped the scratchy blankets tighter around her shoulders. It was so very warm here, and she feared she would never come out.

_Perhaps I should stay here forever. I could._

Éponine tucked her chin in, curling into fetal position. So warm. Somebody shook her shoulder and blearily, Éponine opened her eyes.

Cosette stood over her bed. Her little blonde sister chewed at a fingernail as she rocked back and forth. "Éponine. Monsieur Bernand shall be leaving soon. Azelma and I have already eaten breakfast. Monsieur said for me to let you sleep, but when you still would not wake, I came to fetch you. Imagine if, after all this trouble, we forget you here in Le Mans!" She giggled. "Just _imagine_!"

Éponine frowned. "You ate breakfast without me? Oh, but you should have woken me. I'm terribly hungry, you know," she added hotly. She climbed out of the bed, despite its protests. "Now I'll have to go all the way to Paris on an empty stomach."

Cosette picked up a small wooden comb and handed it to Éponine. "No, you shan't. Monsieur says you will eat in the carriage."

"Very well. Where did you get this comb?"

Cosette nodded at the door. "Monsieur lent it to us. Azelma and I both combed our hair with it. We all looked utterly bedraggled." She shook her head. "But Monsieur will be leaving soon. There isn't time for a bath."

"I don't mind." Éponine ran the comb through her long brown hair. "I suppose I'll wash when we arrive in Paris."

"I don't know if there will be any time. Anyhow, you must come. Monsieur Bernand is leaving."

Outside, a carriage was ready, and Monsieur Bernand was the driver. His carriage was not one of the luxurious cabs, but one made for cargo. He apologized for the lack of proper seating, but Éponine couldn't have cared less. She and her sisters sat amongst apple crates on the floor, and it was all very exciting. She ate her breakfast on the road – a rich green apple and some slices of baguette with cheese – and the Monsieur was even kind enough to give her a small flask filled with milk. It was like Papa's very best meals.

As they traveled, Azelma dared to stand up in the rocking carriage. She peered out between one of the panels of wood. "I only wish there was a window to see out of," she sighed. "I'd like to see the countryside, and all the pretty villages we might pass through."

Cosette looked up. "Oh, no. This is fine. Truly – imagine if we had not been found by Monsieur Bernand at all, and we would have to walk the entire way. We're very lucky."

Azelma shrugged. "I suppose so. I only wished for a window."

Cosette nodded. "Yes, of course. I know. I'd like a window, too, I suppose. I only meant to say that we're lucky enough as it is. A window would simply better the situation."

Azelma sniffed. "Oh, forget it all."

The next several hours passed with little talking. Nothing at all interesting happened. Éponine was bored beyond words by the time Monsieur Bernand called, "We'll be arriving in Paris soon. Now, where would you like me to leave you?"

Azelma opened her mouth but Éponine clamped her hand over it. "Oh…by the Jardin du Luxembourg is fine."

"The Jardin du Luxembourg? Where? It is not a small park, _petite_."

Éponine called, "Anywhere will do, whatever is most convenient."

"All right."

Twenty minutes later, the sisters were dismounting the carriage and thanking Monsieur Bernand profusely. The old man smiled and told them it was an honor to meet such lovely girls, and he wished them well, that their Papa would not be too worried.

Once he was gone, the girls began to find their bearings, trying to figure out how to arrive home.

"I do hope Papa will be there," sighed Cosette, bouncing a little on her heels.

Éponine squeezed her hand. "He shall be."

And then she froze. The hair on the back on her neck stood on end as a chill ran down her spine. She set a hand on Cosette's arm, eyes wide.

Behind her, she could just make out the sound of hoof beats on cobblestone, and when she turned, she saw them.

The police, with that Inspector Javert in the lead.


End file.
